《The Lost Kingdom Of Maria》 Chapter 1: The Dust Road Chapter 1: The Dust Road The year was 1601 (Post-Menma). The Earth, once a cradle of technological marvels, had regressed into a world that mirrored the pre-medieval era. Gone were the roaring engines of cars, the thunderous echoes of guns, and the soaring wings of airplanes. Humanity had lost the light of science and invention, but in its place, they had gained something extraordinary¡ªsomething that bordered on the miraculous. The air itself was alive with Menma, the virus that had reshaped the world. It lingered in every breath, a silent companion to all living things. For centuries, it had woven itself into the fabric of existence, granting those who survived its touch abilities that defied nature. These powers, known simply as *Menma*, were as varied as the individuals who wielded them. Yet, for all its wonders, the world remained a place of mystery and danger, where the line between survival and extinction was razor-thin. On a long, dusty road that cut through fields of wildflowers and golden crops, a wooden cart creaked and groaned under the weight of its journey. The cart, pulled by two aging horses, was a patchwork of splintered wood and frayed fabric. Its wheels, cracked and worn, rattled against the uneven path, sending tremors through the frame with every bump. The sun hung high in the sky, its scorching rays filtering through the tears in the cart¡¯s canopy, casting dappled light on the passengers inside. A young man with short, unruly black hair sat on the left bench, his face a mask of growing discomfort. His pale skin glistened with sweat, and his dark eyes flickered with irritation. He wore a loose black jacket and simple gray trousers, his attire as unremarkable as his patience was thin. The cart¡¯s constant jolting was testing his limits, and the stifling heat inside was doing him no favors. Across from him, on the right bench, lay a girl with long, flowing black hair streaked with strands of deep blue. Her porcelain skin seemed almost luminous in the sunlight, and her lips, naturally rosy, were parted slightly as if in a silent sigh. A thin blue cloth covered her eyes, resembling a blindfold, and her silken hair spilled over the wooden bench like the roots of an ancient tree. She appeared serene, almost asleep, though how anyone could rest in such a rattling contraption was beyond the young man¡¯s comprehension. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. The driver, an elderly man with a head of white hair that danced in the breeze, sat at the front, humming a tune as he guided the horses. His weathered hands gripped the reins with practiced ease, and his smile suggested a man content with his lot in life. To him, this was just another peaceful day on the road. But for the young man, it was anything but peaceful. The relentless shaking of the cart was churning his stomach, and the heat was becoming unbearable. After two hours of enduring the journey, he finally spoke up, his voice tinged with frustration but still polite. ¡°Old man,¡± he said, addressing the driver, ¡°it¡¯s been two hours already. Shouldn¡¯t these horses be faster than this?¡± The driver glanced back through the small wooden window, his smile unwavering. ¡°My apologies, young sir. These horses are 24 and 26 years old. They¡¯re not as spry as they used to be, and their Menma isn¡¯t what it once was.¡± *Menma.* The word hung in the air like a whispered secret. In this world, it wasn¡¯t just a virus¡ªit was the source of power, the lifeblood of both humans and animals. When the Menma virus first swept across the Earth, it didn¡¯t just infect humanity; it seeped into every living creature. Some animals became docile companions, their abilities harnessed for labor or companionship. Others transformed into monstrous predators, their Menma-enhanced instincts turning them into forces of nature. The young man frowned, his irritation giving way to curiosity. ¡°Twenty-six years? That¡¯s past the average lifespan for a horse. Why haven¡¯t you replaced them?¡± The driver¡¯s gaze softened as he looked ahead at the dusty road. ¡°Replace them? Many have told me the same. But to discard them simply because they¡¯ve grown old? That¡¯s not something I can bring myself to do. They¡¯ve been with me for so long¡ªthey¡¯re like family.¡± The young man fell silent, his eyes drifting to the driver¡¯s white hair, which fluttered in the wind like a flag of surrender to time. He understood then that these horses weren¡¯t just beasts of burden; they were a testament to the driver¡¯s loyalty and love. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he lowered his head, trying to ignore the cart¡¯s incessant shaking. His thoughts turned to the girl across from him. She hadn¡¯t stirred once during the entire journey. How could she remain so still, so unbothered, while the world around them seemed determined to fall apart? He glanced at her again, her serene expression a stark contrast to his own discomfort. *I wonder,* he thought, *if she¡¯d be angry if I suddenly threw up on her.* --- Chapter 2: Her Name is.. Chapter 2: Her Name is.. The rickety cart continued its journey toward Petita Village, its wheels creaking and groaning as they rolled over the uneven, dusty road. Inside, the young man with messy black hair was doing his best to keep his stomach in check, silently praying he wouldn¡¯t end up vomiting on the girl across from him. The trip took another 45 minutes before the cart finally reached the village gates. As the old driver brought the horses to a halt, he climbed down from his seat, stretching his back with a soft groan. ¡°We made it before 1:00 PM. Good timing, don¡¯t you think?¡± he said, his voice cheerful despite the long journey. The young man jumped down from the cart, his boots hitting the ground with a thud. He glanced up at the clear blue sky, shielding his eyes from the blazing sun. ¡°We left at 9:30 AM. I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re this optimistic,¡± he replied, his tone a mix of exhaustion and mild irritation. The old man chuckled, patting one of the horses on its neck. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to wake your friend?¡± he asked, nodding toward the cart. The young man turned to look through the wooden window of the cart. To his surprise, the girl with the long black hair and blue blindfold was still lying there, completely motionless. ¡°I don¡¯t know her,¡± he admitted. ¡°Really? I thought you two knew each other since you boarded the cart together.¡± The young man shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. ¡°Coincidences happen, don¡¯t they? Anyway, thanks for the ride.¡± As he spoke, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal coin, handing it to the old man. ¡°When I said you should replace your horses, I meant you should buy two new foals for work. That doesn¡¯t mean you have to get rid of these two. I think it¡¯s time they retired and enjoyed the rest of their years grazing in the fields around your home.¡± The old man looked surprised for a moment, then a warm smile spread across his face. ¡°Thank you. You¡¯re a kind young man after all.¡± His smile faded slightly as he added in a quieter tone, ¡°By the way, I¡¯m just curious¡­ why did you come to this village specifically?¡± The young man didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°I was told this is the closest route to the Kingdom of Saita. I¡¯m aiming to take the entrance exam for Ragandarok Academy.¡± The old man¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn¡¯t expected that his rickety cart might have carried a future student of the prestigious Ragandarok Academy. But before he could respond, one of the guards at the village gate, who had overheard the conversation, stepped in. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Who told you this was the right route?¡± the guard asked, his tone skeptical. The young man, unaware of the guard¡¯s intentions, answered simply, ¡°Some merchants.¡± The guard stroked his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Merchants, huh? I doubt they¡¯d mislead you on purpose, but they might not have known better. It¡¯s true this road leads to the Kingdom of Saita, but there¡¯s a band of nine highway robbers along the way. Petita Village is safe, but once you leave and try to continue toward the kingdom, no merchant or cart driver will take you. And honestly, can you blame them? No one wants their cart stolen.¡± The guard stood about two meters away, not moving from his post by the right side of the gate. His words left the young man puzzled, while the old man seemed unsurprised, as if he already knew about the danger. ¡°What about the knights?¡± the young man asked. ¡°Isn¡¯t that their job?¡± The guard looked up at the village sign, which read ¡°Petita Village¡± in bold letters. ¡°We¡¯ve already sent a request to the knights, but it¡¯s been 40 days and we haven¡¯t heard back. I didn¡¯t expect them to delay this long¡­ Your only option is to turn back and take the main road, but that¡¯ll take a lot of time. I¡¯m sorry to say this, but I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll make it to Ragandarok Academy in time. The entrance exam is the day after tomorrow, right? You still need to register tomorrow. It¡¯s going to be tough.¡± The young man remained silent, his gaze fixed on the village sign. Suddenly, a voice interrupted from behind. ¡°Lazy guard, it¡¯s better if you stop trying to blame the knights.¡± Everyone turned to see the girl with the long black hair and blue blindfold walking toward them. Her voice was calm but carried an air of authority. ¡°Do you see that badge on the left side of your chest? It says you¡¯re a recognized guard of the Kingdom of Saita. And, coincidentally, that¡¯s also where your heart is. Didn¡¯t they tell you that means you¡¯re supposed to sacrifice your life to protect this village?¡± The guard looked slightly uncomfortable but quickly retorted, ¡°Our duty is to protect the village, not the road. Before you blame me, you should know the law better.¡± The girl stopped walking when she reached the young man with the black hair. In the same calm tone, she said, ¡°The knights are needed everywhere in the world every day. If they haven¡¯t arrived here yet, it¡¯s because they¡¯re overwhelmed with work. And since I hate hearing you talk about them like that, I¡¯ll take care of this band of robbers myself.¡± Despite her quiet demeanor, she radiated confidence. At that moment, the only question in the young man¡¯s mind was whether she could actually see through that blue blindfold. After her final words, she began walking toward the gate. The old man, however, called out to her in a gentle tone, ¡°Excuse me, young lady¡­¡± He held out his hand, expecting payment for the ride. In a somewhat comical gesture, the girl pulled out a small piece of paper with the words ¡°Fayrouz; the future strongest knight in the world¡± written on it in messy handwriting. She placed the crumpled paper in the old man¡¯s hand. The scene was almost laughable, but the girl¡¯s serious expression made it clear she wasn¡¯t joking. The old man, confused, asked, ¡°What¡­ is this?¡± ¡°It¡¯s my signature,¡± she replied confidently. ¡°In three years, I¡¯ll become the strongest knight. When I return, I¡¯ll grant you a special service.¡± The guard couldn¡¯t hold back a chuckle at the girl¡¯s unexpected behavior. Before the old man could react, the young man stepped forward and placed a metal coin on top of the paper. ¡°Again, thank you for the ride,¡± he said. The girl, Fayrouz, looked at the young man for a few seconds, then, in an odd move, took the paper back from the old man and handed it to him instead. ¡°I¡¯m Fayrouz, a future knight and will be the strongest knight in the world,¡± she declared. The young man blinked, caught off guard. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ Fulan,¡± he said, then quickly corrected himself. ¡°Wait, that¡¯s not what I meant to say. What¡¯s the point of this paper anyway?¡± ¡°It simply means I owe you,¡± she replied. ¡°Are you planning to travel through villages with just this paper? You should carry some coins. That¡¯s the law of life.¡± As Fulann finished speaking, he noticed Fayrouz was already walking toward the village gate. He hurried after her, calling out, ¡°Hey! I didn¡¯t say I accepted this piece of paper!¡± - Chapter 3: The Road Beyond Petita Chapter 3: The Road Beyond Petita Fifteen minutes had passed since Fayrouz, the girl with long black hair and a blue blindfold over her eyes, entered Petita Village. She walked calmly through the village¡¯s only market, a quiet place filled with stalls of fruits, vegetables, meats, and fish. The market, though modest, was usually bustling in the mornings, but by this time, just past noon, most of the villagers had already come and gone, leaving the space eerily tranquil. Behind her, Fulan, the young man with messy black hair, followed at a distance. His eyes occasionally flicked to her flowing hair as he thought to himself, ¡®What exactly is this situation? I look like I¡¯m stalking her. I mean, yes, this is the only direct path to the other gate of the village, but walking behind her like this feels¡­ uncomfortable. Should I take a different route? But that would just waste more time. No, I¡¯m doing the right thing. She probably doesn¡¯t even know I¡¯m here because of that blindfold.¡¯ His momentary relief at this thought vanished when Fayrouz suddenly spoke without turning around. ¡°Your name is Fulan, right?¡± Fulan sighed, realizing she had noticed him despite the blindfold. ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯m following you or anything,¡± he said, his tone calm but slightly defensive. Fayrouz glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. ¡°Why would you? Isn¡¯t this the shortest path to the gate?¡± Fulan was taken aback by her straightforwardness. Most girls in her position might have assumed he was following her for less practical reasons, but Fayrouz seemed entirely unbothered. ¡°When I heard you call yourself a future knight,¡± he said, ¡°I assumed you were heading to Ragandarok Academy to take the entrance exam.¡± Fayrouz turned her head forward again, her voice steady. ¡°Really? When I heard you were going to Ragandarok Academy, only one thing came to mind: you¡¯re definitely going to fail the entrance exam.¡± Fulan¡¯s eyebrows twitched, though his expression remained neutral. ¡°And what makes you assume that?¡± ¡°The Menma flowing through your veins,¡± she replied without hesitation. ¡°It has no distinct color. This is the first time I¡¯ve seen something like it. It¡¯s as if you have no unique trait.¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Fulan glanced at his hand, where all he could see was the pale skin of his palm. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you can see the particles of Menma,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I¡¯ve heard only a handful of people in this world can do that. Are you from a noble clan or something?¡± Fayrouz walked in silence for a few seconds before answering. ¡°I¡¯m just a village girl. Do you think a noble girl would ride in that rickety cart without even having money to pay?¡± Fulan chuckled softly. ¡°Fair point.¡± The quiet returned as they continued walking, the only sounds the soft crunch of their footsteps on the dirt path. Ten minutes later, they reached the village¡¯s other gate, the exit leading toward the next stretch of their journey. As expected, two guards stood at the gate, their simple attire and spears marking them as village protectors. A badge on the left side of their chests identified them as recognized guards of the Kingdom of Saita. Before Fulan and Fayrouz could pass through, one of the guards stepped forward, raising a hand to stop them. ¡°Hold on,¡± he said firmly. ¡°The road between Petita Village and Saikono Village isn¡¯t safe right now. It¡¯s better for you to turn back and take the main road to the Kingdom of Saita. That route is secure.¡± Fulan looked at the guard, his tone calm but resolute. ¡°Going back and taking the main road to the kingdom will take us more than a full day. I don¡¯t have that kind of time.¡± The guard¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°I¡¯m speaking for your own good. There¡¯s a band of highway robbers controlling this road. We¡¯ve been waiting for the knights to arrive for some time now. You can either wait here in the village or take the main road.¡± It seemed the path ahead was not an option, but Fulan and Fayrouz were determined. Fayrouz spoke up, her voice as calm as ever. ¡°I¡¯m a future knight. That¡¯s why I¡¯ll see what I can do about this problem myself.¡± The guards exchanged glances, clearly baffled by the confidence radiating from the girl. After a moment of silence, one of them said, ¡°A future knight? All I see is a girl who looks about sixteen or seventeen. Letting you pass through this gate would be like sending you to your death. And you¡¯re a girl, after all. Your body would be like prey to those bandits. This guy¡±¡ªhe gestured to Fulan¡ª¡°will suffer less because they¡¯ll just kill him. But you¡­ well, you know what I mean.¡± Before Fayrouz could respond, Fulan suddenly began walking past the gate, his expression calm and unbothered. He didn¡¯t even glance at the guard, who called after him in frustration. Seeing this, Fayrouz followed suit, stepping through the gate without hesitation. The only sound left in their wake was the guard¡¯s exasperated voice. ¡°I¡¯ve done my duty and warned you! Seriously, why are young people so stubborn these days?¡± Chapter 4: The Ambush Chapter 4: The Ambush The road connecting Petita Village to Saikono Village was eerily silent, as if the world itself had paused to hold its breath. The fields on either side were wild and untamed, a sea of green grass dotted with occasional bursts of flowers. There was no trace of human touch here¡ªno fences, no plowed earth, just nature reclaiming its dominion. The sun hung high in the sky, its heat growing more oppressive with each passing second. It felt like the height of summer, though it was only April. The only sounds were the distant calls of birds soaring above and the rhythmic crunch of footsteps on the dirt path. Fulan and Fayrouz walked side by side, beads of sweat forming on their brows. There was no water in sight, no refreshing breeze¡ªjust the relentless sun and the endless road ahead. "Despite all the negatives," Fayrouz said, her voice calm and measured, "this road is perfect for getting robbed." Fulan glanced at her, his lips twitching in amusement despite his growing thirst. "Wait, isn¡¯t getting robbed also a negative?" Fayrouz tilted her head slightly, her blindfolded gaze seemingly fixed on the horizon. "What are you talking about? We came here specifically to get robbed." "Maybe you¡¯re right, but there¡¯s no need to phrase it like that... Anyway, are there really bandits here? I don¡¯t see anyone." Fayrouz fell silent, and this time, the silence stretched for a full thirteen minutes. Then, without warning, she stopped walking. Her expression grew serious as she murmured, "They¡¯re here..." Fulan frowned, scanning the empty fields around them. He saw nothing¡ªno movement, no shadows, no signs of life. The stillness was unnerving. "What do you mean? I don¡¯t see anyone." Before Fayrouz could respond, nine figures materialized out of thin air, surrounding them in a tight circle. They wore dark cloaks that obscured their faces, their heads covered by hoods. Their sizes varied¡ªsome were tall and burly, others short and wiry¡ªsuggesting a mix of ages and builds. The air grew tense as the bandits closed in, their presence suffocating. The first to speak was Fulan, his voice steady but laced with disbelief. "They appeared out of nowhere? How is that even possible?" The bandits remained silent, their movements deliberate and unnervingly coordinated. Fayrouz, however, was unfazed. "Saying they appeared out of nowhere is incorrect," she said calmly. "They¡¯ve been around us the entire time. I could sense their Menma." A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Fulan turned to her, his brow furrowed. "You mean they were hiding? Is that even a thing in this world?" Fayrouz¡¯s lips curved into a faint smile. "Perhaps you¡¯re the one who doesn¡¯t know much about this world. The ability to hide is a dull power, and its users are cowards 99.8% of the time." The leader of the bandits, a tall man with a medium build, chuckled at her words. His face was mostly hidden, but his teeth gleamed in the sunlight as he spoke. "That¡¯s a bit harsh, but you seem well-informed. Still, this is the only way we can survive in this world. The nobles and the gifted will never understand the struggles of people like us." Fulan remained silent, his eyes darting between the bandits as he assessed the situation. Fayrouz, however, wasn¡¯t done. "People like you?" she said, her tone cutting. "It¡¯s impossible for a group of unrelated individuals to share the same ability. Nine people using the same power? That¡¯s beyond belief." The leader listened quietly, but one of the bandits¡ªa slender figure with a voice that sounded young¡ªspoke up. "Big brother, this girl seems smart. She can track and sense Menma. Maybe we should try to recruit her instead of... you know." The leader nodded thoughtfully, his respect for his comrades evident. "You¡¯re right," he said, turning to Fayrouz. "You¡¯ve got a sharp mind, and you sensed us despite that blindfold. Are you blind, or is that just a fashion statement? Either way, my little brother sees potential in you. How about this? Join us as the tenth member of our group, and we¡¯ll let your friend here walk safely to Saikono Village. Not a bad deal, don¡¯t you think?" The silence that followed was heavy, the tension palpable as everyone waited for Fayrouz¡¯s response. But before she could utter a word¡ª Whoosh! Fulan moved. His body erupted in a faint white aura, his skin glowing as if made of pure light. The bandits barely had time to react as he lunged at the leader with blinding speed. His fist connected with the man¡¯s face, breaking his nose and sending him sprawling to the ground. The attack took less than two seconds, but it was enough to send shockwaves through the group. Three other bandits fell to Fulan¡¯s rapid kicks before they could even think to activate their abilities. His movements were precise, his strikes fueled by the white energy coursing through him. But the victory was short-lived. Five of the bandits managed to activate their cloaking abilities, vanishing from sight. Fulan¡¯s advantage was gone, and the battlefield became a deadly game of cat and mouse. Fayrouz¡¯s eyes widened behind her blindfold as she observed Fulan¡¯s transformation. ¡®What is this? His Menma particles turned white? How is that even possible? Even if he has a hidden ability like this, he can¡¯t win this fight alone. I need to move!¡¯ Fulan, meanwhile, was already calculating his next move. ¡®Five of them are still active. It¡¯s been four seconds since I held my breath. I can¡¯t dodge attacks from enemies I can¡¯t see. I have two options: rely on Fayrouz to track them, or start swinging blindly. Either way, I can¡¯t afford to lose here. I haven¡¯t even taken my first step toward Ragandarok yet!¡¯ The real fight had just begun. --- Chapter 5: The Blue Whip Chapter 5: The Blue Whip After the bandits offered Fayrouz a chance to join them in exchange for sparing Fulan''s life, Fulan had acted without hesitation. His body erupted in a faint white aura, and he lunged at the bandit leader with blinding speed. The fight that followed was chaotic, but in the end, Fulan had only managed to take down four of the nine bandits. The remaining five had activated their cloaking abilities, vanishing from sight and leaving Fulan vulnerable. Every second counted now. One wrong move could mean death. Fulan''s mind raced as he assessed the situation. *''I have two options: rely on Fayrouz''s ability to sense Menma, or start swinging blindly like an idiot. Either way, staying still is the worst thing I can do!''* *Whoosh!* Fulan disappeared from his spot, darting to the left in a burst of speed. His movements were erratic, his attacks random. He swung his fist through the air, the sound of his punch cutting through the silence like a sonic boom. The bandits, still invisible, realized that a single hit from Fulan could knock them out cold, just as it had done to their comrades moments ago. But Fulan''s strategy had a fatal flaw. The bandits were no amateurs. One of them, a quick-thinking and naturally intelligent man, had already analyzed Fulan''s ability. *''He''s fast, but he''s just swinging blindly. If I time my attack right, I can take him down the moment he misses.''* As Fulan prepared to strike again, the bandit moved. His sword, invisible to Fulan''s eyes, sliced through the air toward Fulan''s neck. The bandit''s lips curled into a confident smile. *''This is the end!''* But before the blade could connect, something unexpected happened. A glowing blue bandage, radiating a soft azure light, wrapped around the sword, stopping it mid-swing. The bandit''s eyes widened as he turned to see Fayrouz standing nearby. Her blindfold was gone, revealing eyes that glowed like the sky, the same vibrant blue as the bandages now coiled around his weapon. *Whoosh!* Fulan reappeared in front of the bandit, his fist already in motion. The bandit barely had time to think, *''Wait¡­ I forgot about her! She can track Menma! Damn it, just give me one second to¡ª''* *Bang!* Fulan''s punch landed squarely in the bandit''s stomach, the force of the blow sending him flying backward. His eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness, crumpling to the ground. Before Fulan could react further, Fayrouz''s glowing eyes flickered. She clenched her fists, and the bandages, now free from the sword, shot through the air like serpents. They wrapped around another invisible bandit who had been sneaking up behind Fulan, squeezing him tightly until blood trickled from his mouth. "Stop! Stop! I can''t take it anymore!" the bandit screamed, his voice filled with agony. Fayrouz''s bandages weren''t just for show¡ªthey were a weapon, flexible and deadly. The bandit''s cries confirmed that their power had increased significantly since Fayrouz had removed her blindfold. Was this the true extent of her ability? With five bandits down, the tide of the battle had turned. Fulan heard the sound of footsteps retreating, and Fayrouz''s voice cut through the chaos. "They''re trying to run. One is on your right, five steps away!" *Whoosh!* This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Fulan didn''t hesitate. He darted to the right, his foot connecting with the bandit''s back. The impact was so powerful that the bandit''s spine nearly shattered. Meanwhile, Fayrouz''s bandages snaked through the air, capturing the remaining two bandits with ease. The bandages had grown longer and more fluid, their movements almost hypnotic as they coiled around their targets. Fulan took a deep breath, his chest heaving as he tried to steady himself. He glanced at the bandits, now immobilized by Fayrouz''s glowing bandages, and then at Fayrouz herself. Her eyes, still glowing, shifted from the color of the sky to a deep ocean blue. Fulan felt as though he were being pulled into their depths, the intensity of her gaze momentarily overwhelming him. But the moment passed, and Fayrouz''s voice brought him back to reality. "The blue whip?" she asked, her tone calm but curious. Fulan blinked, shaking off the strange sensation. "Do you have a name for that weapon?" he asked, gesturing to the bandages. Fayrouz glanced at the bandages, which now glowed with a soft blue light. Their shape shifted, transforming into a dark blue scarf that she draped around her neck. "It''s not a weapon," she said simply. "Just an old gift from my mother. I used it as a blindfold on the cart to block out the light." "Really?" Fulan raised an eyebrow. "When we got on the cart, you were already wearing it, so I didn''t realize. In that case, the name I gave it seems fitting." "Why does it need a name?" "You use it in fights, don''t you?" "Only because it''s the closest thing I can reach." "That still means there''s no harm in naming it." Fayrouz fell silent, her expression unreadable. Fulan rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the defeated bandits. "We still have over half an hour of walking ahead of us. You''re not expecting us to carry all of them, are you?" --- At the gates of Saikono Village, the closest settlement to the Kingdom of Saita, two guards stood watch. Unlike the guards of Petita Village, these men wore sleek black uniforms reminiscent of ancient ninja attire. Their spears rested firmly in their hands, and on the left side of their chests was a badge that read, *"Recognized Guard of the Kingdom of Saita."* The atmosphere was dull and monotonous, as usual. Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, occasionally obscuring the sun before revealing it again. The routine was so mundane that one of the guards yawned loudly, his eyes closing for a moment. When he opened them, he glanced down the dirt road leading to the village and froze. "What''s that?" he muttered. The other guard followed his gaze. At first, the scene was hazy, the figures in the distance nothing more than blurred silhouettes. One of the shadows seemed to be carrying something¡ªor rather, dragging it. The guards tensed, their grips tightening on their spears as they prepared for potential danger. But as the figures drew closer, the scene became clearer. It wasn''t a threat¡ªit was a girl with long black hair and a boy with messy, short black hair. The boy wore a simple black jacket and gray pants, while the girl was dressed in a dark blue-black coat and loose black silk trousers. What caught the guards'' attention, however, was the glowing blue belt around the girl''s waist. From it extended nine tails, each one wrapped around a person. The tails shimmered with a faint azure light, and the bodies they carried floated effortlessly above the ground, as if suspended by some unseen force. The girl''s eyes glowed the same soft blue as the tails, a clear sign that she was using her Menma to maintain this bizarre spectacle. The boy walked beside her, his expression calm but slightly amused. One of the guards stared in awe. "It''s like a super spider carrying its prey..." The other guard, however, was quick to piece things together. "Wait, there are nine people wrapped in that blue stuff. That means..." His companion''s eyes widened as the realization hit him. "You''re telling me these kids took down the bandits *by themselves*?!" By the time Fayrouz and Fulan reached the gate, the guards were on high alert, their spears raised defensively. Fayrouz placed a hand on the glowing blue belt at her waist and spoke in her usual calm tone. "They''ve lost consciousness three times already. They''ll wake up for the fourth time soon. You should lock them up immediately." As she spoke, the blue tails began to shrink, their glow dimming as they retracted. The guards glanced at the bandits'' bruised and battered faces, and a shared thought crossed their minds: *''Did she keep knocking them out every time they woke up? That''s... brutal.''* The belt transformed once more, shrinking until it became a simple blue bracelet. Fayrouz slipped it onto her wrist, her glowing eyes fading back to their normal color as she examined the bracelet for a moment. The guards were stunned. They had never seen an ability like this before. As they stared in awe, Fayrouz turned to Fulan, who stood beside her, and said, "You were right. It''s much lighter now." Fulan began walking toward the village gate, his tone casual. "I''m still surprised you didn''t think of this sooner. How long have you been using that scarf? You should''ve turned it into a bracelet or a ring in this heat. Though I guess it''s better as a scarf in the cold." Fayrouz followed him, her voice calm but curious. "As a scarf in the cold?" Fulan nodded. "Yeah, it''s a scarf. In battle, use the name I gave it. But the rest of the time, call it a scarf. Otherwise, your mother''s gift loses its meaning." Fayrouz walked in silence for a few seconds before responding. "By the way, I never agreed to that ridiculous name." "What?!" Fulan exclaimed, feigning offense. "It''s an awesome name! *The Blue Whip of Wonder!*" "No, it sounds childish. Knights don''t name their techniques." "But you''re not a knight yet. I don''t see the problem." "Hmph... Maybe I''ll consider it..." The guards, who had overheard the entire conversation, exchanged glances. To them, it seemed as though Fulan and Fayrouz had known each other for years. In reality, it had only been a day. --- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 6: The Clash in Saikono Chapter 6: The Clash in Saikono Saikono Village¡ªor perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a town¡ªwas a place of striking contrasts to Petita. Circular in shape, it was surrounded by wooden walls over four meters high. The wood, sourced from the supernatural trees of this world, was nearly impenetrable. In this world, trees were more than just plants; they were living, breathing entities, their leaves inhaling and exhaling like humans and animals. The Menma within them made their wood incredibly durable, almost otherworldly in its strength. As the sun began to set, casting an orange-pink hue over the village, the streets of Saikono came alive. The clean, cement-paved roads added a sense of order and beauty to the scene. Unlike Petita, the people here wore clean, silk clothing, and the streets bustled with activity. Shops lined the pathways, their simple yet elegant designs adding to the town''s charm. Among the crowd were Fayrouz and Fulan, walking side by side. Fayrouz''s expression was as calm as ever, while Fulan looked around in awe. "This place is so lively compared to the last village," he remarked, his eyes scanning the bustling streets. Fayrouz kept her gaze forward, her voice steady. "We need to find a merchant or someone with a cart to take us to the Kingdom of Saita. We should reach it by tonight. Don''t forget that." Fulan glanced at her. "I know... You seem so calm, like you''re used to places like this." Fayrouz turned her head slightly, her tone unchanged. "Places like this? You should see the Kingdom of Saita from the inside. This village is nothing compared to it." Fulan fell silent for a moment before speaking again. "So this isn''t your first time going to the Kingdom of Saita..." This time, Fayrouz didn''t hesitate to respond, though she didn''t look at him. "So you''re the type who likes to talk about the past? I don''t mind telling you, but I doubt you''ll share your real story with me." Her words caught Fulan off guard, and a faint look of surprise crossed his face. He slowed his pace slightly, his tone calm but measured. "I don''t recall doing anything that would make me seem suspicious." Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Fayrouz didn''t slow down. "Maybe. But I''m curious about your Menma particles..." Fulan smiled faintly. "You should stop observing me in such a perverse way." This made Fayrouz stop in her tracks. She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "Excuse me?" Fulan replied without missing a beat. "Nothing. It''s just that watching the particles and cells flowing through my veins seems a bit... invasive." "That''s a good attempt at changing the subject," Fayrouz said, her tone as calm as ever. Before their conversation could continue, a loud voice interrupted them. "That''s enough! I''ll put an end to this tonight!" Fulan and Fayrouz exchanged glances before turning toward the source of the commotion. A crowd had gathered in a circle, their attention focused on two men in the center. One of them carried a massive sword on his back and wore a brown shirt with black pants, the attire of an adventurer. The other had a beard, a silver axe strapped to his back, and wore a military-style jacket and pants. The bearded man, clearly furious, was in an aggressive stance. "I was insane to let her follow someone like you! I should''ve dragged her away by force if I had to!" The man with the sword remained calm, his voice serious. "I never asked her¡ªor you¡ªto come with me. You both knew what the life of an adventurer entailed from the start. Death is something all humans share. The adventure I''m setting out on tomorrow will likely kill me too. I respect her decision, so I won''t mourn her death excessively." The bearded man''s anger flared. He grabbed the swordsman by the collar, his voice trembling with rage. "If you love death so much, I''ll make you see it today! That fool only loved you, you bastard! She didn''t care about the adventure or any of that! Don''t you feel even a little regret for her death?!" The swordsman''s eyes were unreadable as he replied, "No, I don''t regret anything..." These words pushed the bearded man over the edge. He grabbed his axe, which glowed red-hot as if fresh from a forge before returning to its original color, steam rising from its surface. "Good. Then I can kill you without remorse!" *Whoosh!* But before the axe could descend, Fulan''s body erupted in a faint white aura. He darted through the crowd, positioning himself between the two men. At the same time, Fayrouz''s blue bandages shot out, wrapping around the bearded man''s axe and halting its deadly arc. The crowd gasped as the two strangers intervened, their actions swift and decisive. Fulan stood protectively in front of the swordsman, while Fayrouz''s glowing bandages held the axe in place. The tension in the air was palpable, but for now, the immediate danger had been averted. --- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 7: The Duel at Dusk Chapter 7: The Duel at Dusk In Saikono Village, the sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The village, more akin to a small town, buzzed with life as its inhabitants went about their evening routines. But amidst the calm, a storm was brewing. Two adventurers, once comrades, stood on the brink of a violent confrontation. The crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle held its breath, their curiosity piqued by the tension between the two men. Just as the bearded man with the axe was about to strike, Fulan and Fayrouz moved in perfect unison. Fulan''s body erupted in a faint white aura as he darted between the two men, his speed blinding. At the same time, Fayrouz''s glowing blue bandages shot out, wrapping around the axe and halting its deadly arc. The crowd gasped, their murmurs growing louder as they witnessed the sudden intervention. The swordsman, still standing behind Fulan, stared in shock at the young man who had just saved him. "This speed..." he muttered, his voice barely audible. On the other side, the bearded man glared at Fayrouz, his grip tightening on his axe. "Young lady," he said, his tone calm but laced with irritation, "what do you think you''re doing?" Fayrouz met his gaze with unwavering calm. "Stopping a fool from committing murder in the middle of a peaceful village." The bearded man''s eyes narrowed. "Murder? You''ve got it all wrong. This is justice¡ªa simple discussion between friends. So, why don''t you step aside before things get worse?" The crowd watched in silence, the tension thickening with every word. Fayrouz, however, didn''t flinch. She tightened her grip on the bandages and replied, her voice steady, "Things getting worse? The only person who''ll have a bad time here is you. To me, you''re just a ticking time bomb that needs to be thrown in a cell for a few days to cool off." The bearded man''s face twisted in anger. His axe began to glow orange, steam rising from its surface as it burned through Fayrouz''s bandages. For a brief moment, Fayrouz''s glowing blue eyes flickered, a flash of memory¡ªher mother''s face¡ªcrossing her mind. She quickly retracted the bandages, transforming them into a small blue ring made of fabric. She inspected it carefully, relieved to find no burns or damage. Meanwhile, the bearded man raised his axe high, causing Fulan to tense, ready to strike at a moment''s notice. But instead of attacking, the man brought the axe down with full force, slamming it into the ground. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. *Crash!!!* The impact sent chunks of cement flying, filling the air with gray dust. The crowd coughed and shielded their eyes, but the dust wasn''t thick enough to obscure their vision. It was clear the strike had another purpose. The bearded man released his grip on the axe, leaving it embedded in the ground as he turned to walk away. "Tonight," he said, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd, "three hours from now, at exactly nine o''clock. You and I will settle this the way warriors do. If you truly call yourself an adventurer, then meet me here. If you want to run, do as you please. For Lamaria''s death, I''ll end our friendship tonight." The swordsman''s lips curled into a small, enigmatic smile. "We''ve known each other for nine years," he said, his voice calm but heavy with unspoken emotions. "Do you really think I''d run?" The bearded man paused for a moment before continuing on his way. "Yes. If you had valued her more, you''d be the most perfect man I know." With that, the confrontation ended, leaving the crowd in stunned silence. The two men, though outwardly different in their reactions, both carried a deep sadness. The swordsman''s quiet resolve and the bearded man''s simmering anger spoke volumes about the weight of their shared history. As the crowd began to disperse, murmurs of excitement and speculation filled the air. Some children, disappointed by the lack of immediate action, grumbled as they walked away. "No fight? I was so excited to see adventurers battle. What a waste of time. My mom won''t let me out at nine anyway." Others, however, were already making plans to witness the duel. "They''re fighting at nine? It''ll be a bit chilly by then." "So? Are you staying home?" "Of course not! A duel between professional adventurers is rare. I''m not missing it." "Want to bet on the outcome?" "Only if you let me bet on the axe guy." "The swordsman looks weak. There''s no point in betting..." The villagers spoke casually, as if the upcoming duel were nothing more than a friendly match. But for Fulan and Fayrouz, the situation was far more complex. Fulan watched as Fayrouz followed the bearded man, her back turned to him. He couldn''t help but notice the swordsman''s unnatural calm, the way his eyes seemed to hide a world of pain. There was more to this story than met the eye. Fayrouz, on the other hand, felt the weight of the bearded man''s grief. She understood his anger, his need for closure. Losing someone dear was never easy, and no amount of wisdom or philosophy could ease that pain. The swordsman and the bearded man. Silence and rage. Fulan and Fayrouz. Their paths had crossed in unexpected ways, and now they were all entangled in a web of emotions and unresolved conflicts. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over Saikono, one question lingered in the air: Would this night end in tragedy or redemption? --- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 8: The Story of Two Adventurers. Chapter 8: The Story of Two Adventurers. The village of Saikono lay under the veil of twilight, the sun having just dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a sky painted in deep purples and blues. The air was cool, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and the distant crackle of fires being lit in homes. The streets, once bustling with life, had grown eerily quiet. The only sounds were the occasional clatter of shutters being closed and the muffled footsteps of merchants hurrying to secure their shops before nightfall. The impending duel between the two adventurers had cast a shadow over the village, and the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. In the heart of the village, where the duel was set to take place, the silence was almost oppressive. The only remnants of the earlier commotion were Fulan, the blond swordsman, and the silver axe still embedded in the ground, its blade glinting faintly in the dim light. A long wooden bench sat a few meters away, and it was here that Fulan and the swordsman now sat, side by side, their figures silhouetted against the darkening sky. The swordsman was a striking figure, his blond hair catching the faint light, his green eyes reflecting a quiet, almost melancholic resolve. A faint scar ran down the side of his face, adding a ruggedness to his otherwise handsome features. He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. Fulan, meanwhile, leaned back slightly, his eyes scanning the now-empty streets. The occasional sound of a shopkeeper locking up echoed through the stillness, a reminder of the world moving on despite the tension that hung in the air. "You don''t have to look at them like that," the swordsman said suddenly, his voice calm but carrying a weight of experience. "Duels between adventurers rarely end well. Even low-ranking knights stand by and watch in silence because they know adventurers are beyond their strength. They can''t stop what''s coming." Fulan turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting the swordsman''s. "Are you really going to fight?" he asked, his tone neutral but probing. The swordsman chuckled softly, though the sound lacked any real humor. "Well, let''s hope a high-ranking knight passes by and arrests me before the fight starts. Ha!" His smile faded almost as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a somber expression. "It''s a duel now. If I don''t fight, it''ll only add to Rakan''s anger and grief. I planned to take the blow and die, hoping it might ease his pain a little. But you two intervened and made things more complicated." Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Fulan''s gaze shifted to the stars beginning to dot the night sky. "So you''re saying your death is the solution?" The swordsman tilted his head back, his eyes tracing the constellations above. "It''s been the solution from the beginning, for nine long years. If I hadn''t existed, this story might have had a happy ending." Fulan didn''t respond immediately. He understood that the man beside him wouldn''t share the full story, no matter how much he asked. After a long silence, Fulan spoke again, his voice calm but resolute. "There''s one way this can end tonight without anyone dying." The swordsman took a sip from a cup of tea he had bought for Fulan earlier, his expression unreadable. "And what''s that?" Fulan squeezed the plastic cup in his hand, distorting its shape as he smiled faintly. "If I explain my plan, you''ll probably ruin it. So... I just need you to do one thing: trust me." The swordsman stared at his own cup of tea for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. I don''t have a reason to refuse help at a time like this..." --- Meanwhile, outside the village, in a dense forest about 250 meters from the gates, the bearded adventurer sat on a fallen tree trunk, tearing into a roasted deer leg. A small campfire crackled nearby, its warmth fighting off the encroaching chill of the night. Fayrouz leaned against a tree nearby, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. "It''s really good," the bearded man said around a mouthful of meat, gesturing to the deer leg. "Why don''t you give it a try?" Fayrouz''s voice was calm but firm. "Don''t talk with your mouth full. And adventurers aren''t allowed to hunt in areas near the kingdom. You studied at Ragandarok Academy for three years. Why are you ignoring all the laws they taught you now?" The man took another bite, chewing thoughtfully before responding. "Speaking of that, the academy''s entrance exam is coming up soon. You two have some talent. Good luck. As for me... this might be my last meal, so don''t be so strict." Fayrouz''s brow furrowed slightly. "What do you mean?" The man looked up at the stars, his expression softening. "Because I''ve never beaten him, not even once. I wanted to join the knights, even as a low-ranking one, because I knew I was weak. But when I saw the girl I loved risking her life just to stay by his side, I decided to follow them to protect her. And that''s how I threw myself into the life of an adventurer instead of the knights..." Fayrouz fell silent, her gaze also turning to the stars. She had always thought those who sacrificed everything for love were fools, but she also knew they weren''t just fools¡ªthey were people whose hearts were free of deceit. After finishing his meal, the man wiped his hands and stood, stretching slightly. "By the way, how''s your weapon? You looked really worried when my axe''s heat touched it." Fayrouz pulled a small blue ring from her pocket, transforming it into a blue bracelet while it was glowing. "It''s fine," she said simply. The man nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "How Wonderful... Alright, shall we go?" --- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 9: The Story of Two Adventurers - Part Two. Chapter 9: The Story of Two Adventurers - Part Two. The village of Saikono lay cloaked in the chill of night, the air crisp and heavy with silence. Though dozens of villagers had gathered to witness the duel, not a single voice broke the stillness. The only sound was the mournful howl of the wind as it wove through the crowd, tugging at the hair of Fulan and the blond swordsman who sat side by side on the long wooden bench. They waited, their eyes fixed on the path leading into the village, where the bearded adventurer would soon appear. Minutes passed in tense silence before the sound of footsteps finally echoed through the night. All eyes turned to see the bearded man approaching, his figure silhouetted against the faint glow of the village lights. His aura radiated anger, a stark contrast to Fayrouz, who walked calmly beside him, her expression unreadable. When Fulan and the blond swordsman saw them, the swordsman inhaled sharply and placed a hand on his knee, ready to rise. But before he could stand, Fulan extended his arm, blocking him without a word. His focus remained entirely on the approaching figure of the bearded man, his dark eyes steady and unyielding. The villagers began to murmur among themselves, their whispers growing louder as they watched Fulan rise instead of the swordsman. "What''s this?" one villager muttered. "Isn''t that the young man who stopped the fight earlier?" "What does he think he''s doing now?" "He''s still young. He probably doesn''t understand what a duel between warriors means." "If he doesn''t, he''ll die here." "Should someone tell him?" "Impossible. I''m just a simple merchant with no talent or strength. We''ll leave it to fate." The whispers swirled like an irritating hum, a cacophony of doubt and curiosity. But Fulan paid them no mind. His steps were deliberate as he approached the bearded man, his expression calm but resolute. The bearded man''s eyes narrowed as he watched Fulan draw near. He placed his hand on the hilt of his axe, still embedded in the ground, and spoke in a low, steady voice. "Are you telling me you''re going to hide behind this boy now?" The temperature of the axe began to rise, its silver surface glowing orange as the man lifted it high above his head. "What a disgrace!" he roared. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. *Crash!!!* With a thunderous strike, the bearded man brought the axe down, sending a vertical wave of scorching orange energy hurtling toward Fulan. The attack was precise, the wave narrowly missing Fulan but carving a blackened scar into the ground as it passed. The force of the blast whipped Fulan''s hair and clothes, but his expression remained calm, almost contemplative. *''His attack didn''t hit me. Did he miss?''* The white aura around Fulan''s body flared as he turned his head slightly, his thoughts racing. *''No... It''s impossible for a seasoned adventurer to miss a stationary target. He wasn''t aiming for me from the start!''* Fulan''s realization came just as the blond swordsman began to draw his massive blade, preparing to intercept the energy wave. But Fulan was faster. *Whoosh!* In a burst of speed, Fulan darted in front of the swordsman, positioning himself as a shield. The villagers gasped as Fulan began to punch the incoming wave of energy with blinding speed, his fists moving like a blur. [25 Sonic Punches!] The relentless barrage of strikes weakened the energy wave, shattering it into tiny, glowing orange fragments that scattered like stars. The entire spectacle lasted only three seconds, but it left the crowd in stunned silence. The bearded man lowered his axe, resting it on his shoulder as he regarded Fulan with a mix of irritation and grudging respect. "That''s a reckless way to stop an attack like that," he said, his voice calm but edged with tension. "Are you so eager to interfere that you''d risk losing your hands?" The villagers turned their attention to Fulan''s hands, which were now red and blistered, the skin raw and burned. Despite the pain, Fulan managed a faint smile as the white aura around his body intensified. "You''ve been the obstacle all along," he said, his voice steady. Before anyone could react, Fulan surged forward, his speed carrying him to the bearded man in an instant. *Whoosh!* Fulan''s foot connected with the man''s stomach, the force of the kick sending him staggering back. "She loved him, and he loved her," Fulan said, his voice rising. "But he kept his distance because he knew his best friend loved her too. Even I could see that. How could you not understand it after nine years?!" The bearded man gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on his axe as he swung it down like a hammer. But Fulan dodged effortlessly, retreating to stand beside the blond swordsman. He turned to the swordsman, his tone serious. "It''s your fault too. It''s good to consider your friend''s feelings, but you shouldn''t have let her chase after you all those years. You can''t please everyone." Fulan braced himself for another attack, but when he looked back at the bearded man, he was surprised to see him kneeling on the ground, his head bowed as he whispered words too faint for anyone to hear. The fight¡ªor rather, the brief but intense confrontation¡ªwas over. Fulan exhaled deeply, the pain in his hands now overwhelming. He could no longer muster a smile. At that moment, glowing blue bandages began to wrap around Fulan''s hands and fingers. He looked up to see Fayrouz approaching, her expression calm but her eyes sharp. "So you''re foolish enough to injure yourself like this before the entrance exam," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Use these bandages for now. While we were coming here, the bearded man helped me find a merchant heading to the Kingdom of Saita tonight. We can get you some medicine when we arrive..." --- --- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 10: Dreams and Dawn Chapter 10: Dreams and Dawn Twenty minutes had passed since the confrontation between Fulan and the bearded adventurer. The villagers, disappointed by the lack of a full-blown duel, had dispersed to their homes, muttering about wasted time. They had expected a fierce battle between seasoned adventurers, but Fulan''s intervention had turned the spectacle into something far less dramatic. The bearded man remained kneeling on the ground, his axe still embedded in the dirt. His head was bowed, his shoulders heavy with unspoken regret. The blond swordsman approached him slowly, extending a hand to help him up. "There''s no point in staying here," he said softly, his voice carrying the warmth of a friendship that had endured years of trials. The bearded man looked up, his eyes meeting the swordsman''s. The familiar smile on his friend''s face¡ªa smile he hadn''t seen in years¡ªstirred something deep within him. He took the offered hand, his voice trembling as he spoke. "I didn''t know... I never knew..." The swordsman''s smile didn''t waver. "I know. I should have been honest with you from the beginning..." --- Meanwhile, 150 meters away, Fulan and Fayrouz sat in a merchant''s cart, its wooden frame creaking as it rolled along the dirt road toward the Kingdom of Saita. The cart was laden with goods, and the merchant, a portly man with brown hair, guided the horses with practiced ease. The journey was quiet, the only sounds the rhythmic clatter of wheels and the steady clip-clop of hooves. Fulan sat with his hands wrapped in Fayrouz''s glowing blue bandages, the pain in his burned palms a constant reminder of his reckless actions. Fayrouz, seated across from him, gazed up at the star-filled sky, her expression unreadable. After a long silence, she spoke, her voice calm but tinged with criticism. "Your way of helping them was... harsh. When I saw you fighting, I thought you had a good plan. But all you did was say what the blond swordsman couldn''t bring himself to say all these years." Fulan remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the stars above. "The truth, even if it''s bitter, is better than a sweet lie," he said finally. "If he had been honest about his feelings from the start, maybe that girl wouldn''t have died." Fayrouz sighed, her gaze still fixed on the heavens. "Well, I don''t really care about all that. What matters to me is staying healthy and reaching the academy on time. We''ll arrive at the Kingdom of Saita in about an hour, but it''ll take another six hours to reach the academy. You should get some sleep. That''s what I''m going to do." Fulan didn''t respond immediately. He doubted he could sleep in his current state, but as the minutes passed, the exhaustion from the day''s events caught up with him. Within three minutes, his eyes closed, and his breathing deepened as he drifted into an uneasy slumber. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. --- Time passed quickly as Fulan and Fayrouz slept, the cart rolling steadily toward its destination. When they finally arrived at the gates of the Kingdom of Saita, the merchant gently knocked on the side of the cart to wake them. "We''re here," he announced. Fulan stirred, his dreams still lingering in his mind. They had been vivid and chaotic, fragments of memories and fears intertwining in a surreal tapestry. In his dream, a voice had echoed, cold and commanding: *"Their lives depend on you. If you fail to complete the mission within these three years, don''t blame me for what I''ll do to your clan."* Another voice, softer but filled with desperation, had pleaded: *"Don''t listen to him, Fulan! I''d rather die than see you become a killer for our sake!"* And then the first voice had returned, dripping with malice: *"Really? Are you speaking for yourself or for the entire clan? Because their eyes tell me they''d gladly see him turn into a murderer if it means saving themselves. So, Fulan? Are you going or not..."* The dream had been a whirlwind of emotions¡ªfear, anger, and a deep, unshakable sense of responsibility. Fulan had no time to process it before the merchant''s voice pulled him back to reality. --- As Fulan and Fayrouz stepped out of the cart, the first rays of dawn bathed their faces in golden light. They had arrived in the capital of the Kingdom of Saita, a city that seemed to glow with life even in the early hours of the morning. The gates towered over them, their stone walls rising more than 12 meters high, a testament to the kingdom''s strength and grandeur. Two knights in black armor stood guard, their presence commanding respect. These were no ordinary guards; they were graduates of Ragandarok Academy, the lowest rank of knights but still formidable in their own right. The merchant exchanged a few words with the knights, who inspected his goods before allowing him to pass. As the cart rolled through the gates, Fulan and Fayrouz took in the sights of the capital. The streets were lined with glowing orbs of light, powered not by electricity but by Menma-infused crystals housed in glass spheres. The houses, though modest in height, were beautifully crafted, their walls a blend of brown and white, adorned with flowers that added a touch of elegance to the cityscape. The roads were paved with gray stone, smooth and clean, a stark contrast to the dirt paths of the villages. Despite the early hour, the streets were alive with activity. People moved about with purpose, their faces reflecting the safety and prosperity of the kingdom. It was a city where even the night felt secure, a place where dreams and ambitions could flourish. Fulan and Fayrouz exchanged a glance, the weight of their journey settling over them. They had reached the capital, but their destination¡ªRagandarok Academy¡ªwas still hours away. As the sun continued to rise, casting its warm light over the city, Fulan couldn''t shake the feeling that his dreams were more than just fragments of his subconscious. They were a reminder of the mission he had yet to complete, a mission that would define not only his future but the fate of those he cared about. --- --- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 11: The Academys Welcome Chapter 11: The Academy''s Welcome The second day of the journey began with the first rays of sunlight touching the faces of Fulan and Fayrouz as they stepped off the merchant''s cart onto the cobblestone streets of the Kingdom of Saita. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of a city waking up. Fulan turned to the merchant, fumbling with his bandaged hands to retrieve some coins from his pocket, wincing slightly as the fabric brushed against his burns. The merchant, a kind man with a round face and a warm smile, waved him off. "No need for that," he said cheerfully. "This was my route anyway. The road ahead is still long for me, so perhaps you can help me someday if you see me in need. Farewell." With that, the merchant drove off, leaving Fulan and Fayrouz standing in the middle of a street that seemed to radiate life and beauty. Fulan looked around, his eyes widening at the sight. The houses, a harmonious blend of brown and white, were adorned with flower garlands that hung from their roofs like natural chandeliers. At night, he realized, these flowers likely glowed in a myriad of colors, adding to the city''s charm. Every window had a vase filled with vibrant blooms, and the streets were paved with smooth gray stone, a stark contrast to the dirt paths of the villages they had left behind. The street was bustling with activity. People sat in cafes, sipping tea and reading newspapers. Others strolled leisurely, some with children in tow, while merchants called out to passersby, showcasing their wares. The sheer liveliness of the place made Fulan mutter under his breath, "But this isn''t fair..." Fayrouz, who had been quietly observing the scene, turned to him. "What did you say?" Fulan shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts. "Nothing. First, we need to find medicine for my hands. Then we''ll head to the academy." Fayrouz nodded and began walking down the street, her steps confident. "Do you even know where the academy is?" Fulan asked, following her. "We have two options," she replied without looking back. "Either we ask someone, or we look for the largest building in the area. The academy''s architecture will make it stand out." Fulan sighed. "So you don''t know either." Fayrouz ignored his comment, her gaze scanning the lively street. After a moment of silence, she spoke again. "Fulan, at the academy, we''ll meet all kinds of people. Rumors say that even the most talented individuals often fail the entrance exam. But each of us has a trump card¡ªour abilities. As long as you''re not the first to reveal yours, you''ll be safe." Fulan listened intently, his expression serious. "But I already know your ability, and you know mine." Fayrouz glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his. "What you''ve seen of my power is less than 15% of its full potential. I''m prepared to crush the entire testing hall if it means passing the exam. So I''m telling you now, don''t worry about helping me. During the exam, I''ll be a different person. If they make us enemies, it''s best for you to avoid facing me." Fayrouz turned her attention back to the street, leaving Fulan to ponder her words. He couldn''t help but smile faintly. *''And yet, here you are, helping me find medicine. You could''ve gone straight to the academy.''* --- Minutes later, they entered the nearest pharmacy, where a doctor examined Fulan''s burns. "All you need to do is drink this green liquid and wash your hands with it," the doctor explained, holding up a small vial. "This is the cheapest medicine I have, based on your request, and it''ll heal you in a few hours." Fayrouz took the vial, her expression skeptical. "You''re saying the cheapest medicine you have can heal burns like these in a few hours? It seems the healing properties of Menma have reached a high level of quality." This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. The doctor nodded, adjusting his glasses. "Humans never stop researching the properties of the Menma virus. Its evolution isn''t limited to human genes¡ªit extends to plants, animals, and even technology. Light, healing, and many other wonders... the mystery of Menma is vast, and we''re slowly unraveling it. Anyway, that''ll be four silver coins." Fayrouz''s expression turned serious. "We''ll give you two silver coins and one copper." The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Wait, that''s not even a negotiation... Fine, I''ll settle for three silver coins." Fayrouz reached into Fulan''s pocket, pulling out three silver coins and placing them on the counter. "Now we can finally head to the academy," she said, holding up the vial. --- The road to Ragandarok Academy was long and wide, paved with decorative gray stone and lined with flowers of every color. Dozens of young men and women walked along the path, their faces filled with determination and excitement. Fulan and Fayrouz joined the crowd, their steps steady as they approached the academy''s main building. "It''s been fifteen minutes already," Fulan remarked, his voice calm. "This place is huge." Fayrouz nodded. "Naturally. It''s the most important institution in the kingdom. It produces knights of unparalleled skill, recognized even by other kingdoms." Fulan glanced at the sea of candidates around them. "That explains why there are so many applicants..." The path was flanked by training grounds and sparring arenas, but the main building loomed ahead, its grandeur unmistakable. Unlike the houses outside the academy grounds, the building was massive, its red-tiled roofs and white walls exuding an air of authority. The doors and windows were framed in brown, and the main entrance stood wide open, though no one had entered yet. As Fulan and Fayrouz approached, they noticed something unusual. The candidates weren''t heading inside. Instead, they were sitting in a sprawling garden filled with circular tables, each adorned with plates of pastries and pots of tea. The atmosphere was oddly festive, with candidates chatting and laughing as they enjoyed the treats. Fayrouz frowned, her instincts tingling. "What does this mean? Why are they welcoming us like this? I''ve heard the exam is so difficult that only 20% usually pass. This doesn''t make sense." Fulan, however, was already making his way to one of the tables, his eyes lighting up. "Who cares? I can''t remember the last time I had a piece of cake..." Fayrouz grabbed his arm before he could take a bite. "Wait! What if the exam has already started? You need to be cautious!" Fulan looked at her, annoyed. "You don''t have to be so serious. Everyone''s eating without a care." Before Fayrouz could respond, a shadow beside her shifted, and an elderly man in a sleek black suit emerged. He had white hair, round glasses, and a gentle smile. "Your friend is right," he said, his voice warm. "We''ve infused these pastries with Menma particles to track any traitors from other kingdoms. Anyone who doesn''t eat them will be disqualified from tomorrow''s exam. Once you''ve had a piece or two, head inside through the main door. I''m the head butler, and I''ll ensure you''re served the best lunch and dinner today. It''s our duty to honor our guests before the real trial begins. Oh, and at exactly five o''clock, the director will give a welcome speech. Until then, feel free to do as you please." With that, the man merged back into the shadows, leaving Fayrouz with more questions than answers. She turned to Fulan, who was already happily munching on a pastry, and sighed. "Maybe I''m overthinking this." Reluctantly, she joined him at the table, picking up a pastry and taking a bite. The flavor was exquisite, and she couldn''t help but comment, "It''s hard to believe they infused Menma particles into something this delicious." Fulan grinned, his mouth full. "See? No need to worry." Fayrouz studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "Your behavior is a bit puzzling. Why didn''t you suspect the pastries at all? Do you really love sweets that much?" Fulan didn''t answer, his attention already on another pastry. Fayrouz sighed, picking up another treat. As she did, two young men approached their table. They were identical twins, with green hair, brown eyes, and slender builds. Each carried a thin sword at his waist, and their light brown clothing suggested they came from a desert region. The twins hesitated, clearly nervous. Fayrouz raised an eyebrow. "What?" Her sharp tone made them flinch, but Fulan intervened with a warm smile. "This table seats four. Don''t be shy¡ªwe don''t own it." The twins brightened immediately, sitting down with grateful smiles. "Really? Thank you!" Fayrouz glanced around, noticing that all the tables were now occupied. "It seems we should head inside, as the butler suggested. There are too many people looking for seats." --- ---- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 12: The Roommate Chapter 12: The Roommate After leaving the garden filled with tables laden with pastries, Fulan and Fayrouz made their way to the main entrance of Ragandarok Academy. As they crossed the threshold of the brown wooden door, they were struck by the elegance of the interior. The floors were covered in pristine white ceramic tiles that seemed to gleam under the soft light. The walls were spotless, painted in a clean white, and the wooden staircases, crafted with meticulous precision, added a touch of warmth to the grandeur. The entire space was illuminated by dozens of golden lanterns hanging from the walls and ceiling, casting a warm, inviting glow. Despite the opulence, the atmosphere was eerily quiet. The only person in sight was a young boy, no older than nine, dressed in the same sleek black suit as the elderly butler they had met earlier. His brown hair and green eyes gave him an innocent appearance, but his demeanor was anything but childlike. Fayrouz approached him slowly, her voice tinged with concern. "How can they make a child like you work in such a grand place?" The boy, unfazed by her question, replied in a calm, almost mechanical tone. "Your room number is 037. The person behind you is in room 243. Rooms below 200 are on the right¡ªthe girls'' wing. Rooms 200 and above are on the left¡ªthe boys'' wing." Fulan, standing behind Fayrouz, couldn''t help but smile. "He''s good at his job, regardless of his age. Anyway, I guess this is where we part ways. We''ll see each other again during the exam. Goodbye for now." Fayrouz, matching Fulan''s calm demeanor, nodded and headed toward her room without another word. As she opened the door, the familiar aroma of coffee filled her senses. The room was spacious, with a narrow hallway near the entrance that housed a wardrobe and a shoe rack. Beyond the hallway, the room opened up into a cozy living space with two beds. Sitting on one of the beds was a girl with long blonde hair, her green eyes focused on the cup of coffee she was preparing. The blonde girl looked up slowly, her gaze meeting Fayrouz''s. For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the gentle clinking of the spoon against the glass cup. Then, the girl spoke, her voice calm and measured. "It seems even the most prestigious academy in the world can''t afford to give each student their own room... Hello, roommate. Want some coffee? This will be the first and last time you get to drink my coffee for free, so think twice before refusing." Fayrouz walked to her bed, which was positioned opposite the blonde girl''s, and replied in an equally calm tone. "Students at the academy live under a strict dietary program set by the administration. What you''re doing right now is a violation of the rules, no matter how minor it seems." The blonde girl smiled, pulling out another glass cup. "That''s fine. Because I''m going to make you break this silly rule with me right now..." --- Meanwhile, Fulan had reached his own room. Unlike Fayrouz, he leaned against the wooden door for a moment before sliding down to the floor, his mind racing. *''Tracking Menma particles? That''s exactly what I was missing. Now, even if I get the chance to assassinate the king of Saita, it''ll be impossible to get close to him as long as there are people who can track Menma. All my paths are blocked. The only way left is to become a high-ranking knight and earn a legitimate opportunity to meet the king. Only then can I carry out my mission...''* Shocking thoughts that revealed hidden layers of Fulan''s true intentions. The kind, helpful boy who acted like a brave hero was now showing his true colors. But was Fulan really the type to kill someone so easily? And not just anyone¡ªthe king of Saita itself! Who was Fulan? What was his past? If his goal was truly to assassinate the king, who had sent him? And would he really go through with it? The answers to these questions were shrouded in mystery, but one thing was clear: Fulan''s mission was far more complicated than it seemed. And what about Fayrouz? Had Fulan been deceiving her all along? How would she react when she discovered that his true goal was to undermine the very laws she sought to uphold? If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. --- As Fulan sat quietly by the door, he heard footsteps approaching. Slowly, he turned his head to see a boy about his age standing in the hallway. The boy had short, light blue hair and eyes of the same color. He wore a white shirt and black winter pants, and his eyes glowed faintly, a sign that he was ready to use his ability. "Finally, my roommate has arrived," the boy said, his voice calm but laced with determination. "The person I need to crush to secure my spot in the academy..." --- In this academy, every room had a narrow hallway, three meters long, with a wardrobe, a coat rack, and a shoe rack. As long as someone was in this hallway, they couldn''t fully see the room. Since Fulan was sitting on the floor, leaning against the door, he hadn''t noticed the other person in the room until he heard the footsteps. The boy with light blue hair stood seven meters away, his posture ready for combat. "Finally, my roommate has arrived," he repeated. "The person I need to crush to secure my spot in the academy..." Fulan placed his hand gently on the door, preparing to stand. "I can understand that we''re roommates and will be sharing this space, but what exactly do you mean by ''crushing me'' to secure your spot? I don''t think I''m your enemy or anything like that." The boy pulled out what looked like thin, black boxing gloves from his back pocket. They were sleek and delicate, almost like bandages. As he put them on, he explained, "No, it seems you don''t understand anything. But I''ll be kind and explain. Last year, the number of new students was much higher than this year''s applicants. So much so that they had to put three students in each room. Of course, this was only for the welcome day. The next day, the trio fought each other. The people who had dinner together, thinking they''d be friends or roommates for the next three years, ended up eliminating each other the very next day." The boy finished putting on his gloves and clenched his fists. "Let me guess," Fulan said, his voice calm. "You think they''ll repeat what they did last year and make us fight until only one of us remains to claim this room." The boy nodded. "I''m glad you understood quickly." "But there''s one thing that bothers me." "What is it?" "If we''re really going to fight tomorrow, why do you look like you''re ready for battle right now?" The boy raised his fists, his stance that of a professional boxer. "I don''t want to be eliminated tomorrow, no matter what. So I''ll measure your strength here. If your ability is troublesome and poses a significant threat to me, I''ll make sure to inflict critical injuries on you to ensure my victory tomorrow." Fulan smiled faintly. "I admire how honest you are with yourself and with me. I wish I had the courage to be as straightforward with others as you are." The boy remained silent, his focus unwavering. Fulan realized that the fight had already begun, and there was no turning back. The white aura around his body flared as he prepared to defend himself. *Crackle!!!* The boy with light blue hair moved like a bolt of lightning, his speed astonishing. But when it came to speed, Fulan was no amateur. He had trained to move at the speed of sound. The boy''s left foot shot out in a kick aimed at Fulan''s face, but Fulan reacted quickly, raising his hands to block the attack. But he didn''t just block it¡ªhe caught the boy''s foot with both hands, stopping the kick in its tracks. The boy''s eyes widened in shock. He had never encountered someone who could match his speed. But instead of pulling his foot back or launching another attack, he remained still. Fulan released the boy''s foot, his expression calm. "What''s wrong? I thought you were going to cripple me to ensure your victory tomorrow." The boy smiled faintly as his foot touched the ground. "There are many strange abilities in this world. Some people have disgusting powers that can make you unable to breathe with just a touch. I hate those kinds of abilities. I hate how someone weaker than me can win just by touching me. I prefer abilities that can be strengthened through hard work, like yours. You have a good ability. You deserve a fair fight against me." Fulan removed his shoes and placed them to the side, walking further into the room. "In short, you''re impressed by my ability and want to fight me? But you don''t even know what my ability is yet. All I did was stop your kick." The boy jumped onto his bed, picking up a book titled *The Theory of Life Before Menma.* "The speed at which you moved your arms is enough to tell me that you''re accelerating your Menma particles. In my entire life, I''ve never faced an opponent who could match my speed. Now, I truly hope they don''t change last year''s rules. I want you to be my opponent." Fulan smiled as he lay down on his own bed. "That book you''re reading..." ---- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 13: The Crystal Knights **Chapter 13: The Crystal Knights** The boy with short, light blue hair jumped onto his bed, clutching the book titled *The Theory of Life Before Menma*. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of pages as he flipped through the book. Fulan, lying on his own bed, broke the silence with a calm tone. "That book you''re reading..." The room fell into a deeper silence as the blue-haired boy remained engrossed in the text. For over two minutes, he didn''t respond, his eyes scanning the page with intense focus. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady but filled with intrigue. "The Theory of Life Before Menma, written by Knight Mahiro Junior. He claims that over 1,601 years ago, there were civilizations that reached the pinnacle of progress and development. He talks about artifacts he discovered in the outside world, things he couldn''t identify or understand their purpose." Fulan listened intently, his gaze drifting toward the clouds outside the window near his bed. "In short, they''re just ancient relics from past civilizations," Fulan remarked casually. The boy lifted his eyes from the book and shifted his gaze to Fulan, his tone calm but firm. "Mahiro suggests that *we* are the ancient civilization, not them. To us, these artifacts may seem meaningless, but to them, they held great significance and had uses we can''t even comprehend." Fulan remained silent for a few seconds, then spoke again. "An advanced civilization destroyed by a single virus? I wonder if people back then lived without slavery or wars... Anyway, this Mahiro person¡ªI think I''ve heard his name somewhere before." The blue-haired boy''s expression shifted slightly, his demeanor becoming more serious. "Huh?! You don''t know who Mahiro Junior is?" Fulan replied immediately, his tone unchanged. "That''s why I''m asking. I''ve heard his name before, but I can''t quite remember where." The boy quickly closed the book and held up the cover for Fulan to see. "He''s written numerous incredible historical books, as well as works describing the outside world! Even adventurers who graduate from this academy make sure to read his books before venturing out. Some professional adventurers have admitted that Mahiro''s books saved their lives in the outside world because of the knowledge they contain!" Fulan shifted his gaze from the window to the boy''s face, his voice still calm. "That''s not what I meant. I''ve heard Mahiro''s name in a different context, not as a famous author or anything like that." Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. A excited smile spread across the blue-haired boy''s face. He stood up, placing his right fist over his heart. "Mahiro Junior is one of the Nine Crystal Knights. They''re not just the nine strongest soldiers in the kingdom¡ªthey''re the nine strongest men in the entire world! What truly terrifies people across the globe isn''t the Saita Kingdom''s army, its wealth, or its status. The real reason the Saita Kingdom is feared is because of the Nine Crystal Knights. Even someone like me can tell that those individuals are on a level so far beyond my own that I could train my entire life and never reach their strength." Fulan acknowledged the boy''s strength and speed, but hearing him speak so reverently about the Crystal Knights made him realize that these knights were on an entirely different plane of power. Fulan''s voice remained calm as he probed for more information. "The Nine Crystal Knights? What sets them apart from ordinary knights?" The blue-haired boy smiled and sat back down on his bed, his tone relaxed. "It''s clear you''re not from the Saita Kingdom. What I admire about this kingdom is that, unlike others, it accepts everyone. It doesn''t matter if you''re black or white, strong or weak¡ªas long as you''re in Saita, you''re safe. Anyway, there are four main ranks of knights. The Black Armor Knights are the ones you see patrolling the streets and guarding the gates. Then there are the Silver Armor Knights¡ªtheir numbers are also large, and their duties aren''t too different from the Black Armor Knights, but they''re occasionally sent outside the kingdom for missions. They''re stronger than the Black Armor Knights. Next are the Gold Armor Knights. I''ve heard their total number doesn''t exceed 300, and they''re powerful enough to take on wild, raging beasts. These knights only move when a mission is classified as Rank A, whether inside or outside the kingdom. Finally, there are the Crystal Knights. As I mentioned, there are only nine of them. They''re the king''s personal guards and only act on his direct orders. The presence of a single Crystal Knight in the kingdom is enough to make it secure. No one would dare invade or attack. Imagine having nine individuals of that caliber in one place! It''s said that sending just three of them could bring an entire kingdom to its knees. Even if you sent an army of 1,000 men, a single Crystal Knight could crush them all and still stand as if they''d just warmed up." Fulan had no idea such soldiers existed. His ultimate goal had been to use his abilities to assassinate the king swiftly and unnoticed, completing his mission. But now, a significant obstacle stood in his way. Descriptions weren''t enough, and rumors remained just that¡ªrumors. Fulan needed to witness the strength of the Nine Crystal Knights for himself. Only then could he decide his next move. As these thoughts raced through his mind, Fulan''s expression remained calm, but his resolve deepened. *''Even if I spend three full years gaining trust, becoming a knight, and earning the chance to meet the king... If even one Crystal Knight is with him, they could protect the king regardless of my speed. Not only that, but they''d kill me instantly. That bastard knew all of this already, yet he still sent me on this impossible mission...''* ---- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 14: The Prelude to Chaos. Chapter 14: The Prelude to Chaos. The hours slipped by like shadows in the dimly lit halls of Ragandarok Academy. The students, each confined to their quarters, passed the time in their own ways. Some trained relentlessly, their bodies drenched in sweat as they honed their skills. Others buried themselves in ancient tomes, their eyes scanning pages filled with secrets of the arcane. A few slept, their minds drifting into dreams of triumph or failure, while others sat in silence, their thoughts consumed by the looming examination. The air was thick with anticipation, a silent storm brewing beneath the surface. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the academy''s grand courtyard came alive with the soft glow of lanterns, their light fueled by shimmering particles of Minema. The courtyard was vast, its expanse dominated by a raised wooden platform and rows of seats¡ª250 in total¡ªeach one occupied by a hopeful candidate. Despite the sheer number of participants, the atmosphere was unnervingly quiet, as though the weight of the upcoming trial had stolen their voices. Then, breaking the silence, the sound of footsteps echoed through the courtyard. All eyes turned to the platform, where a man emerged, his presence commanding immediate attention. He was dressed in an elegant brown suit, his light brown hair and matching eyes catching the lantern light. His fair skin and composed demeanor gave him an air of sophistication, but there was something unsettling about the way he carried himself¡ªa calculated grace that hinted at something far more dangerous. The students exchanged glances, their thoughts converging on a single question: *Who is this dandy, and what is he doing on the stage?* The man smiled, his voice calm yet piercing. "Good evening, everyone. I am the headmaster of Ragandarok Academy, the most prestigious institution in the world." A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. This man¡ªthis *fashionable* man¡ªwas their headmaster? They had expected a grizzled veteran, a figure of raw power and authority, not someone who looked like he belonged on a runway. The headmaster continued, his tone measured. "You''re probably wondering why I''ve gathered you here tonight, a full day before the examination. The answer is simple. My predecessor wasted valuable time on the day of the exam explaining the rules. I, however, believe in efficiency. Tonight, you will learn everything you need to know to survive tomorrow." A student in the front row, a bespectacled boy with short brown hair, raised his hand. His voice was calm but laced with skepticism. "Excuse me, Headmaster, but isn''t this tantamount to leaking the exam? If we already know the questions, how can it be called a test?" The headmaster''s gaze shifted to the boy, his smile never wavering. "And your name is?" "Fujito Ryuji," the boy replied without hesitation. "Ryuji," the headmaster said, his tone almost playful, "every student here begins with three points. You''ve just lost one. Speak out of turn again, and you''ll lose another. And let me make this clear: if your points reach zero, you will be disqualified immediately. You are here to listen, not to debate." Ryuji''s body stiffened, his face pale. The message was clear: dissent would not be tolerated. The other students exchanged uneasy glances, the reality of their situation sinking in. They had no rights here¡ªonly the privilege of silence. The headmaster continued, his voice steady. "As I was saying, I''ve made significant changes to the academy''s rules in the past three years. One of those changes is the structure of the entrance exam. This year, the rules will be revealed in advance, giving you the entire night to strategize. After all, war without planning is nothing but suicide." This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. His words resonated with many of the students, earning their reluctant respect. He was a man who valued intellect and preparation, traits they could admire even in their unease. "Last year," the headmaster went on, "nearly 500 candidates took the exam. This year, there are only 243 of you. But make no mistake¡ªthe competition will be fiercer than ever. Only 30 of you will succeed." The courtyard erupted in murmurs, the students'' anxiety palpable. The headmaster raised a hand, and silence fell once more. "Let me explain how the exam works. Each of you starts with three points. To pass, you must accumulate ten points. How do you gain points, you ask? Simple. You fight. Every punch, every kick¡ªeach successful strike earns you a point. But beware: every time you''re hit, you lose a point. If your points reach zero, you''re out. Weapons are allowed, but only strikes with fists or feet will count toward your score. Use your swords, your spears, whatever you have¡ªbut remember, the only way to win is through direct combat." The students exchanged wary glances, the weight of the headmaster''s words settling over them like a shroud. This wasn''t just a test of skill; it was a battle of survival. "The exam will take place in the academy''s outer arena," the headmaster continued. "You will all be thrown into the fray at once. No teams, no alliances¡ªjust you against everyone else. The last 30 standing will earn their place at Ragandarok." The murmurs grew louder, the students'' fear and disbelief bubbling to the surface. "Is he serious?" one whispered. "We''re supposed to fight *everyone*?" The headmaster''s voice cut through the noise like a blade. "I don''t recall inviting flies to this gathering. Shall I start deducting points en masse?" The students fell silent, their fear of the headmaster outweighing their panic. He smiled, satisfied. "One more thing. Two of you¡ªFulan Nanimo and Akira Denki¡ªused your Menma abilities earlier today. That is strictly prohibited. As punishment, you will begin the exam with only one point each. One misstep, and you''re out." Akira''s face paled, his mind racing. *How did he know? Were we being watched?* Fulan, however, remained calm, his expression unreadable. He had already pieced together the truth: the exam had begun the moment they stepped foot in the academy. Every action, every word, was being monitored. The headmaster''s final words hung in the air like a death sentence. "The candies you ate this morning contained Menma particles. They allow us to track your movements and detect the use of your abilities. Consider this a warning: any further disobedience will result in immediate disqualification. That is all. You are dismissed. We meet again at nine tomorrow morning. Good luck." As the students filed out of the courtyard, their minds were a whirlwind of thoughts. Some plotted strategies, others sought alliances, and a few, like Fulan, retreated to their rooms, their resolve unshaken. Akira approached Fulan, his voice low. "So, your name is Fulan Nanimo." Fulan didn''t slow his pace. "If you have nothing important to say, I suggest you find someone else to bother." Akira quickened his steps to keep up. "I get it. You''re angry because you lost points because of me. But that''s exactly why I want to talk. Fulan, I told you before¡ªI want to fight you. But I don''t want to be disqualified. Help me get through this exam." Fulan stopped, his gaze cold. "You''re asking the wrong person. I can''t even guarantee my own success. How am I supposed to help you?" Akira smiled faintly. "That''s the point. We''re in the same boat. One hit, and we''re out. If we watch each other''s backs, we might just make it." Fulan''s expression didn''t change. "And why should I trust you to protect me? What''s to stop you from taking my points for yourself?" Akira opened his mouth to respond, but Fulan cut him off. "Save your breath. I''m not in the business of trusting strangers. I''ll pass this exam on my own. My advice? Stay out of my way tomorrow. If you don''t, I won''t hesitate to take your points." With that, Fulan entered his room, leaving Akira standing in the hallway, his face a mask of frustration and uncertainty. --- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 15: Atomic Manipulation. Chapter 15: Atomic Manipulation. The sprawling grounds of Ragandarok Academy were a sight to behold. The main building, reminiscent of a grand university campus, was dwarfed by the sheer size of the training arenas that surrounded it. These arenas were the lifeblood of the academy, each dedicated to a specific discipline: one for knights, another for adventurers, and the last for the exploration corps. These were the three core divisions of the academy, and each required its own space to hone the unique skills of its students. With first, second, and third-year students all needing daily training, the academy''s vast grounds were a necessity, a testament to the kingdom''s investment in its future warriors and scholars. Ragandarok Academy was not just a school¡ªit was a fortress of knowledge and power, larger even than the royal palace itself. The arena where the entrance exam would take place was one of the three main training grounds. The air was crisp, carrying the faint chill of early autumn. Mornings and evenings were cold, while midday brought a fleeting warmth, as if spring had briefly kissed the land. Though the sun hung high in the sky, its rays were weak, offering little comfort to the students who stood at the edge of the arena, their breaths visible in the cool air. The academy''s campus was adorned with trees, their leaves a vibrant tapestry of orange and yellow. These trees encircled the arenas, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, shedding leaves that drifted lazily to the ground. Stone pathways, intricately designed with gray, decorative patterns, connected the academy''s main building to the training grounds and the grand entrance gate. In spring, the campus would be a paradise of blooming flowers and lush greenery, but now, in autumn, it was a place of quiet beauty, a prelude to the storm that was about to unfold. Two hundred and forty-three students stood at the edge of the central arena, their eyes fixed on the barren, earthen ground before them. The arena was not paved with stone or cement but was instead a vast expanse of packed brown soil, the kind found deep within forests. It was raw and unyielding, a fitting stage for the brutal test that awaited them. One student, a bald man in his early twenties wielding a mace, suddenly felt an acorn drop onto his head. He picked it up, examining it with a look of disdain. "An acorn?" he muttered. "The greatest academy in the world, and this is the best it can offer? No apples, no oranges¡ªjust this hard, useless thing?" Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Before he could say more, the elegantly dressed old man in black emerged from the shadows behind him, plucking the acorn from his hand. The old man began walking toward the center of the arena, peeling the acorn as he spoke. "Humans are meant to think with their minds, not their stomachs. Oak trees improve the quality of the soil and provide clean air. Their wood is of the highest quality, and they are rich in Menma particles, which you will need to perform even the simplest of movements." He popped the peeled acorn into his mouth, glancing at the small watch on his wrist. "It''s exactly nine o''clock. I will be the sole overseer of this exam. You may finish in minutes, hours, or even days¡ªit makes no difference to me. The exam ends when the first thirty of you have accumulated ten points. It doesn''t matter if you have nine points or eight at that moment. This is not just a test of combat; it''s a race to collect points. Now, without further delay, step into the arena. The moment I merge with the shadow of one of you, the exam will begin. Things are about to get... interesting." Fulan and Fayrouz stood far apart, unable to see each other amidst the sea of students. The arena was vast, and each student was the protagonist of their own story, their ambitions and dreams colliding in this crucible of competition. As the students began to step into the arena, their faces a mix of determination and apprehension, the old man leaped into the nearest shadow and vanished. Those who saw it froze, their eyes widening in shock. The exam had begun without warning, without fanfare. For those who hadn''t seen the old man disappear, the realization came too late. The more observant students, however, seized the opportunity. Over thirty of them moved with predatory intent, their faces betraying their plans to betray the unprepared. But among those who had seen the old man''s disappearance was Fayrouz, a girl with long black hair streaked with blue, her eyes glowing with a fierce light as she prepared to unleash her ability. Fayrouz stood at the center of the arena, her hands pressed firmly against the ground. As the treacherous students began their advance, she spoke, her voice calm but resolute. "The academy''s teaching philosophy is based on reality. The enemy won''t announce when they''ll attack. But even so, this exam holds great importance for all of us. We all deserve an equal chance!" **[Atomic Manipulation ~ Mountain Tremor!!]** *Crack!* The ground beneath her hands shattered, fissures spreading like spiderwebs as the arena trembled violently. Students screamed, their balance lost as the earth itself seemed to rebel against them. The source of the quake was Fayrouz, her hair whipping around her as the recoil of her power surged through her body. "Justice is the foundation of society," she declared, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Without justice, there can be no bright future!" --- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 16: The Spark of Conflict Chapter 16: The Spark of Conflict. The old man in the sleek black attire vanished into the shadow of one of the students, blending seamlessly into the darkness. This was the signal¡ªthe game had begun. Yet, most students remained oblivious, continuing their march toward the center of the arena, unaware that the battle had already started. Those who had seen the signal wasted no time. They seized the opportunity to strike at their unsuspecting peers, aiming to claim their points. But just as they moved to attack, Fayrouz, who had also witnessed the signal, placed her hands firmly on the ground. The earth beneath her trembled violently, as if responding to her command. [Atomic Manipulation ~ Mountain Tremor!!] The ground erupted in chaos. Some sections of the earth shot upward, others cracked and remained suspended, while others crumbled and sank. The students, far from being mere amateurs, quickly identified the source of this powerful attack. Their eyes turned to Fayrouz, who stood at the epicenter of the tremor, her hair swaying from the aftershocks and her eyes glowing with the energy of Menma. "Justice is the foundation of society," she declared, her voice steady and commanding. "Without justice, there can be no bright future!" Some of the students, those with a striking presence and an air of authority, recognized Fayrouz immediately. Their first impressions of her were formed as they were thrown into the air by the tremor: "A strong sense of justice and overwhelming power. It seems the Ragandarok Academy isn''t called the capital of talent for nothing," remarked a small boy with golden hair and eyes, holding a bow and a quiver of arrows. He wore a stylish yellow hat and matching attire. "A single touch to cause an earthquake? Who would''ve thought the justice fanatic would be this strong?" muttered a girl with long blonde hair and green eyes, who was also sent flying by the tremor. She was unarmed and happened to be Fayrouz''s roommate, the one who shared coffee with her. "Perfect face, crystalline eyes, long black hair. I think I''ve finally found her¡ªthe girl of my dreams!" exclaimed a muscular, bare-skinned man, the only one naked in the arena. These were the most notable descriptions of Fayrouz. The rest of the students either kept their thoughts to themselves or were too preoccupied with the chaos to speak. But where there were admirers, there were also those who harbored resentment. These fell into two categories: those who had planned to ambush their peers for points after seeing the signal, and those who felt threatened by Fayrouz''s overwhelming power. Akira, Fulan''s roommate, was among those who felt uneasy about her strength. His eyes began to glow a faint blue, and his hair swayed as if caressed by an invisible wind. He stared at Fayrouz, who stood seventy meters away, analyzing her abilities. "That girl... her power isn''t ordinary. I can think of only three possibilities. First, she can create sonic vibrations on anything she touches, which would explain the earthquake-like effect. Second, she can alter or move the earth''s surface within a specific radius. Third, she can manipulate the molecules that make up any material. If that''s the case, she could shatter a tree or even a human body with a single touch. She''s dangerous... she shouldn''t be allowed to live!" *ZAP!!* Akira shot toward Fayrouz like a bolt of blue lightning. Those who saw him pass felt a chill, even though he was gone in an instant. Fayrouz''s eyes widened as she saw him coming. She placed her hands on the ground once more, shouting: **[Atomic Manipulation ~ Nine Stone Walls!!]** Nine stone walls erupted from the ground, forming a protective barrier around her. But to her shock, Akira''s lightning strike pierced through all nine walls effortlessly. His thoughts raced as he closed in: "I won''t be punished by the kingdom''s court if I kill her now. This is an exam recognized by the king, after all. A death or two is expected. At this speed, my punch will shatter her skull!" This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Akira wore black, reinforced gloves for this very reason. At full speed, his punches were lethal, and without the gloves, his own hand would shatter upon impact. To the distant students, it seemed as though a bolt of lightning had struck the center of the arena, shattering some stone walls that had appeared out of nowhere. But for Fayrouz, death was approaching fast. As the ninth wall crumbled, she realized her chances of survival were zero. But then... *ZAP!!* Fulan appeared in a flash of blue lightning, intercepting Akira''s punch just before it could crush Fayrouz''s skull. If Akira had come from the north, Fulan had come from the west. To stop a lightning strike, Fulan used a lightning strike of his own. The collision created an electromagnetic shockwave that sent all three of them flying in different directions. Akira lay on his back, staring at the sky, his hand throbbing with pain. His mind raced as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. "Lightning? I come from a rare lineage, the only one capable of using blue lightning Menma. So how... how can that bastard use it too?" It was a valid question. What Fulan had done defied the laws of nature. He hadn''t moved at the speed of sound¡ªthat would''ve been too slow to save Fayrouz. So how had he managed to use lightning Menma when he wasn''t from Akira''s clan? --- Akira Denki, a boy who appeared to be sixteen or seventeen, had light blue hair and eyes. He hailed from a clan known for their mastery of blue lightning Menma, making him a natural prodigy. But Akira wasn''t just arrogant about his power. He had quickly analyzed Fayrouz''s abilities after seeing her use them just once. The previous collision created an electromagnetic shockwave that sent all three of them flying. The biggest casualty in that moment was Fayrouz, who couldn''t withstand the clash of lightning Menma so close to her body. All of this happened in mere seconds. To the other students, it looked like two bolts of lightning had collided in the center of the arena. After the impact, small blue sparks lingered in the air, falling slowly like blue fireworks. Fayrouz, Fulan, and Akira lay on their backs, watching the sparks fall. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts. "Moving at the speed of lightning is completely different from moving at the speed of sound. I''m used to using sound Menma. Switching to lightning Menma so suddenly is putting a strain on my lungs. I think I can only move at lightning speed two more times at most," Fulan mused. Akira and Fulan, both were thinking about the same thing, but Fayrouz was the one suffering the most¡ªboth physically and mentally. She remembered the words she had said to Fulan the day before, when they were in the capital: "So I''m telling you now, don''t worry about helping me. During the exam, I''ll be a different person. If they make us enemies, it''s best for you to avoid facing me." Those words echoed in her mind as she lay there, her thoughts swirling with regret. "Was I boasting about not needing Fulan''s help? How could you save someone like me, who''s been nothing but rude to you? Fulan, you... you''re making me feel like the worst person alive." The glow in Fayrouz''s eyes faded, not because she was losing consciousness, but because she had lost her will to fight. Fulan''s actions had humbled her, forcing her to confront her own arrogance. But Fayrouz failed to realize one important thing: her actions at the start of the game had inspired some of the students. Just as Fulan had influenced her, she had influenced others. The first to rise from the trio was Akira. Veins bulged on his forehead as he glared at Fulan, who was also trying to stand. "Fulan... what exactly was that?!" Akira demanded. "Why can you use my ability?!" Fulan exhaled a stream of air from his mouth as he struggled to stand. At that moment, the blue eyes of Fayrouz, who was sitting on the ground observing, widened as she watched Fulan take a deep breath, renewing the air in his lungs¡ªor rather, renewing the *minma* within him. Almost immediately, the Menma particles in his body, particularly in his lungs, took on a faint, glowing blue hue. To an ordinary person, The Menma particles in the air will be colorless, but Fayrouz was one of those really rare individuals capable of perceiving the subtle colors of The Menma particles. That¡¯s why she knew something unusual was happening. As she quietly stared at Fulan, who stood five meters away, her thoughts began to race: "Again, it''s happening again... just like during his fight against the bandits. The Menma within Fulan''s body is usually colorless, but whenever he holds his breath, the particles take on a distinct hue. At first, his Menma turned white, but this is the first time I''ve seen it shift to blue. I don''t fully understand what''s going on, but one thing is certain: Fulan only fights when he''s holding his breath?!" Fulan rose to his feet, poised to deliver another response, but suddenly, Akira''s hair began to float backward, followed by his white clothes. "Huh?" At first, he thought it was just the wind, but a second later, his entire body began to drift involuntarily backward. Directly toward the muscular, bald man with tanned skin¡ªone of the individuals who had been captivated by Fayrouz''s movements at the start of the game. The man smiled as he raised his right hand and said: "Sorry, but I plan to confess to that girl. Kids lile you will have another chance to join the academy in the coming years. Don''t get arrogant just because you''re talented!" As Akira''s body reached the man, his right hand was enveloped in a nearly colorless, faint white aura. Just before striking Akira with full force, the man growled: "Fly away, little bird!" [ Ultimate Push!! ] ---- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 17 ~ Vs Akira! Chapter 17 ~ Vs Akira!! Akira''s body drifted backward against his will, drawn precisely toward a muscular, bald man with bronzed skin¡ªone of those who had admired Fayrouz''s agility at the beginning of the game. As Akira closed the distance, the man''s right hand shimmered with a nearly colorless aura. His voice was firm, laced with authority, as he prepared to strike with all his might. "Don''t get arrogant just because you''re talented!" [ Ultimate Push!! ] With a forceful backhand, the bald man swung his glowing hand toward Akira. Bash!! A confident grin spread across the man''s face; he was certain the blow would land cleanly on Akira''s face, securing him a point. But at the last possible moment, Akira moved with lightning speed, crossing his arms to shield himself. The impact crashed against his forearms instead. A searing pain shot through them, signaling the terrifying power behind the strike¡ªthis was no ordinary punch. ''If that had hit my face directly... What the hell is wrong with this guy? Is he trying to kill me?'' Despite the force of the attack, no points were awarded; Akira had successfully blocked it. Fuuushh!! Before Akira could steady himself, his body was sent flying once more. The source of such overwhelming force was revealed as the bald man raised his fingers toward him. [ Pull! ] Akira never even had the chance to touch the ground. His body remained suspended in mid-air, his clothes and hair fluttering as if caught in an unseen wind. The unseen force pulled him back toward the bald man. Yet, unlike before, Akira was not afraid. A smirk tugged at his lips as he pieced it together. ''So that''s it... The ability to attract and repel. I''m not entirely sure how it works, but now that I know the basics, there''s no way I''m losing!'' Electricity crackled around his body, his azure hair spiking as the energy coursed through him. With a determined grin, he rocketed forward like a thunderbolt, his voice carrying over the battlefield. "If you''re so desperate to pull me in, then let me come to you myself!" Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Crash! Akira''s fist slammed into the bald man''s gut with explosive force, earning him a point and bringing his score to two. He prepared to strike again, aiming for another point, but before he could follow through¡ª SWOOSH! An arrow streaked through the air, embedding itself into the ground at Akira¡¯s feet. The sudden attack forced him to halt his momentum. The placement was precise, too deliberate to be a random shot. Akira snapped his gaze toward the source¡ªthirty meters away stood a young man with golden-blond hair and piercing amber eyes, a bow in his hands and a composed smile on his face. His voice carried across the battlefield, calm and certain: "If I were you, I wouldn¡¯t take another step forward." BOOM! The arrow exploded. A cloud of thick, black smoke engulfed the area. From within the haze, a blue flash shot out¡ªAkira, leaping backward, his face marked with minor cuts and his clothes torn. His mind raced. ''What the hell just happened? The tip of that arrow glowed yellow before it detonated. What kind of ability is this?'' He landed safely, now at least fifteen meters away from the bald man, convinced he had put himself in a safer position. But¡ª [ Minma Zone ~ Molecular Conversion! ] The ground beneath Akira''s feet shifted. It transformed into golden strands of hair. Before he could react, the strands writhed to life, curling around his body like serpents. Ten meters away, a blonde girl with piercing green eyes¡ªFayrouz''s roommate¡ªwatched with a satisfied smile. "Only an idiot would think this is an individual game," she mused. "It was a team battle from the very start. I have two good reasons to help them take you down. First, you''re strong¡ªtoo strong. If I let you run loose, you''d be a direct threat to me in this test. Second... my roommate is logical and kind. If she sees you as an enemy, then so do I." Everything seemed chaotic, yet there was a pattern. Despite the free-for-all nature of the game, three people had chosen to focus all their attacks on a single target: Akira. Why? Because he had dared to attack, or even kill Fayrouz. The girl who saved them and a lot of people at the start of the game. As the living strands of golden hair constricted around him, Akira caught sight of the archer¡ªhis bow drawn, another arrow nocked. At the same time, the bald man raised his hand, preparing to use his attraction ability once more. A surge of emotions swelled within Akira: frustration, anger... and a flicker of fear. Lightning erupted around him. The sheer force of the discharge incinerated the golden hair to ash. Without hesitation, he launched himself skyward in a streak of blue light, soaring over thirty meters into the air. ''This is bad. Fighting all three at once means certain defeat. I need to get out of here and find other targets to score points from.'' His eyes scanned the battlefield below as he prepared to land, searching for a safe zone. But¡ª ZAP!!! A bolt of lightning shot up from the ground to the sky. It was Fulan. Like a shooting star, he ascended at an impossible speed, positioning himself above Akira in mid-air, his body twisting into a perfect arc. A split-second realization dawned on Akira. He was defenseless. This was the second time in his life that he had felt it¡ªthe inescapable certainty of an impending hit. ''Ah... this feeling. I remember it. The feeling of defeat, isn''t it?'' BASH! Fulan''s foot connected squarely with Akira''s head, sending him hurtling toward the ground like a comet. Before he could crash, the bald man raised his hand once more, his voice triumphant. "You still owe me a point, you arrogant brat!" [ Pull! ] ---- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 18: The Formation of an Unlikely Alliance Chapter 18: The Formation of an Unlikely Alliance. The battlefield trembled under the force of Fulan¡¯s strike. His foot, crackling with blue electricity, slammed into Akira¡¯s head like a lightning bolt cleaving the sky. The shockwave rippled outward, sending arcs of energy dancing through the air. For a moment, the entire arena was illuminated in a dazzling flash. Akira¡¯s body was hurled backward like a broken comet, his azure hair trailing behind him as he tumbled toward the ground. The sheer power of the kick made the very air quiver, and even the sand beneath them shifted, as if recoiling from the impact. But just before Akira could crash, a voice, thick with triumph, rang out. "Don¡¯t forget, you owe me a point, you arrogant brat!" A single word followed, charged with power. [ Pull! ] Akira¡¯s fall was abruptly halted. An invisible force yanked him back, as if unseen hands had seized him midair. His body twisted, his clothes flapping wildly in the unnatural wind. But there was no salvation¡ªonly another disaster waiting. The bald man raised his right fist, an eerie, colorless aura swirling around it. The air distorted as though bending to his will, warping with raw energy. As Akira was dragged toward him, the bald man¡¯s voice boomed with finality. [ Ultimate Push! ] BASH! The punch struck Akira¡¯s stomach with earth-shattering force. His eyes rolled back, turning white, and a spray of blood burst from his lips, misting the air with crimson. The ground beneath them didn¡¯t just tremble¡ªit exploded. A shockwave of wind and sand blasted outward, carving a fresh crater into the battlefield. Akira¡¯s body was sent hurtling once more, this time beyond the boundaries of the arena and into the dense forest beyond. His flight ended in chaos. He crashed through trees, shattering trunks and snapping branches like brittle twigs. Splinters flew in all directions, marking his brutal descent. Finally, his battered form slid down the last tree he struck, coming to rest in a crumpled heap on the forest floor. His once-mighty presence was reduced to a broken silhouette, his clothes torn, his body unmoving. Two consecutive strikes¡ªFulan¡¯s devastating kick and the bald man¡¯s crushing punch¡ªhad erased his score, leaving him unconscious in the dirt. The bald man smirked, flexing his right arm as though savoring the sensation of his triumph. "There¡¯s no feeling in the world better than landing a perfect hit on your enemy. I live for moments like this." No sooner had the words left his lips than a figure descended from above. Fulan landed like a living thunderbolt, his impact sending a wave of dust billowing outward. The other candidates turned toward him, a mix of awe and caution flickering in their eyes. As the dust settled, he straightened, rolling his shoulders with mild curiosity. "Not a single bone broken? Perfect. I thought I¡¯d at least fracture something with that landing." A silence stretched between them. A moment ago, they had been bound by a singular goal¡ªto take down Akira. Now, with their common enemy defeated, the fragile alliance they had shared teetered on the edge of collapse. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The bald man was the first to speak, his voice tinged with reluctant respect. "You there! Thanks to you, I got my point back. I owe you¡­ though I hate admitting it." Fulan¡¯s gaze flickered toward him, unreadable. He took a slow breath before replying. "Really? But that boy still owed me a point. I wanted to take that one too." The bald man¡¯s grin widened. "Hah? Well, it¡¯s mine now. You want to try taking it from me?" The tension between them thickened, coiling like the moments before a storm. But before either could move, an arrow sliced through the air and embedded itself into the ground between them. A blond-haired archer stepped forward, his golden eyes calm but resolute. "Fighting each other now would be a waste of time. I hate to admit it, but I don¡¯t stand a chance in an exam with rules like these. All I can do is shoot arrows. Punching and kicking are impossible for someone like me." The bald man turned toward him with an irritated frown. "Huh? And what do you want me to do about that? What¡¯s a kid like you even doing in a dangerous place like this?" Fulan said nothing, his dark eyes shifting between the bald man and the archer. Before anyone could respond, a blonde girl stepped forward, her green eyes sharp and assessing. "What he means is that we should work together. It¡¯ll increase our chances of success." Nearby, Fayrouz finally managed to push herself to her feet. Her blue eyes were narrowed with suspicion as she studied the girl. "Forming a team in an individual exam? That¡¯s against the rules." The blonde girl¡¯s gaze met hers, unshaken. "A clash of two lightning strikes just happened next to you, and yet you¡¯re still standing. Impressive, Justice Girl. But I think your understanding of the exam¡¯s rules is flawed." A heavy silence followed. She continued, her voice measured and unwavering. "They only explained how to pass and how to fail. They never told us what¡¯s forbidden. Does leaving the exam area mean disqualification? No. Does killing someone mean disqualification? No. Does forming a team mean disqualification? No. None of these things were mentioned before the exam. Which means¡­" She gestured toward the edge of the arena, where dozens of defeated candidates stood, faces etched with frustration and regret. Among them, a handful remained calm¡ªlikely those who had already passed. "The number of eliminated candidates is rising fast, and the number of successful ones is reaching its limit. And while we¡¯re standing here talking, someone already has nine points and needs just one more to pass. Do you understand what this means?" The bald man¡¯s expression darkened. "It means you¡¯re wasting my time. I¡¯m going to fight!" The archer quickly interrupted. "Wait, Muscle Brain. Your chances of passing are almost nonexistent now. This isn¡¯t just about me. All of us need to form a team. Each of us needs seven points¡ªexcept for this black-haired guy who can copy lightning speed." He glanced at Fulan, whose dark hair and eyes gave him a mysterious aura. "He needs eight points. Meaning, if we form a team, we¡¯ll need thirty-six points in total." The bald man scowled. "Thirty-six points? You¡¯ve got to be kidding me. I can pass on my own using my ability. Why should I help you?" Fayrouz¡¯s voice rang out, calm yet commanding. "No¡­ I can come up with a plan that guarantees our success." She had their attention now. Even the bald man, reluctant as he was, listened. Her blue eyes gleamed as she laid out her strategy¡ªan earthquake to destabilize, a forceful pull to gather opponents, golden hair to bind them, explosions to strike them down. The plan was ruthless, efficient. The blonde girl smirked. "This sounds less like a plan and more like an execution. I almost feel sorry for the ones about to be eliminated." The bald man cracked his knuckles. "Fine. I¡¯ll pull them in." The archer nodded. "My explosions are deadly¡ªI¡¯ll try to hold back." Only Fulan remained unassigned. He raised an eyebrow. "And me? No role for the guy who helped take down Akira?" Fayrouz turned to him, smiling slightly. "I owe you. Let me at least give you eight points as a gift." For a moment, Fulan said nothing. Then, he nodded. And with that, the alliance was forged. The battlefield, once a chaotic free-for-all, would now witness something far more dangerous¡ªa team of warriors bound by necessity, prepared to seize victory. ------ You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 19: The Symphony of Chaos *Chapter 19: The Symphony of Chaos* The battlefield was a canvas of tension and anticipation. The five unlikely allies¡ªFulan, the archer, Fayrouz, the bald man, and the blonde girl¡ªstood at the center of the sandy arena, their eyes locked on the chaos unfolding around them. The air was thick with the hum of energy, the scent of ozone, and the faint metallic tang of blood. The stakes were clear: only 17 seats remained, and their team of five needed to secure their places among the victors. The clock was ticking, and the pressure was mounting. At the edge of the arena, the successful candidates stood in stark contrast to those who had been eliminated. The victors¡ª13 in total¡ªwere a mixed bunch. Some leaned casually against the trees, their expressions bored as if the exam had been a trivial inconvenience. Others stood with their arms crossed, their eyes scanning the battlefield with a mix of curiosity and disdain. A few sat on the ground, their postures relaxed, as if they were waiting for a bus rather than the conclusion of a life-altering exam. On the other side of the arena, the eliminated candidates wore their defeat like a second skin. Their shoulders slumped, their eyes downcast, and their faces etched with a mixture of regret and despair. Some clutched their injuries, their bodies trembling from the physical and emotional toll of the exam. Others simply stared into the distance, their minds replaying the moments that had led to their downfall. The air around them was heavy with the weight of failure, a stark reminder of the brutal nature of the competition. Back in the center of the arena, the bald man cracked his knuckles, his bronzed skin glistening under the overcast sky. His muscular frame exuded confidence as he turned to Fayrouz, the architect of their plan. "Well, shall we begin?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that carried across the battlefield. Fayrouz, her blue hair shimmering with faint traces of Menma energy, knelt and placed her hands on the ground. Her pale skin seemed to glow faintly, and her deep blue eyes closed as she focused. Her voice was calm but firm as she spoke. "We need at least 20 people. Some of them already have more than five points, while others only have one. To balance the points and reach our goal of 36, we need to target at least 20. But it all depends on you, Baldy. Can you pull that many at once?" The bald man grinned, his teeth gleaming as a nearly colorless aura enveloped his fists. "Of course I can. In fact, I have to!" Fayrouz took a deep breath, her mind reaching out to the Menma energy flowing through the earth. She could feel it¡ªthe subtle vibrations, the ebb and flow of particles that made up the world around her. Her eyes remained closed, but in her mind''s eye, she could see the positions of every candidate within her range. Feel the Menma. Breathe the Menma. See its particles with your mind, not your eyes... I don''t need to see them. I can feel the Menma flowing through their veins. This way, I can pinpoint more than 20 people at once... When Fayrouz opened her eyes, they glowed with a faint blue light, like the reflection of sunlight on the surface of the ocean. The Menma energy within her surged, and she slammed her hands into the ground. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. *[Atomic Manipulation ~ Mountain Tremor!!]* Crash!! The ground beneath her erupted in a series of violent tremors, the sand shifting and cracking as the shockwaves radiated outward. The candidates who had been standing nearby were thrown into the air, their bodies momentarily weightless as the earth beneath them buckled. "Damn it! The earthquake again?" one candidate shouted, his voice tinged with frustration as he flailed in mid-air. "What''s the point of this attack? She''s not punching or kicking anyone. She''s not going to earn points like this!" another sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "Pathetic. Is this really her strategy? Just making us lose our balance? What a joke!" a third candidate mocked, his laughter cutting through the chaos. The candidates'' reactions were a mix of annoyance and overconfidence. They had grown accustomed to Fayrouz''s seismic attacks, dismissing them as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. They didn''t realize that this was only the beginning. Fulan, his black hair whipping in the wind as he descended from the air, landed gracefully beside Fayrouz. His dark eyes scanned the floating candidates, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Fayrouz, it seems they''re no longer afraid of your ability." The archer, his golden eyes sharp and focused, already had three arrows nocked and ready. His blond hair fluttered as he balanced himself mid-air, his voice calm but determined. "Well, I''m ready. Let''s start the party, Muscle Head!" The bald man, now standing firmly on the ground, interlaced his fingers and grinned. "Since I''m the heaviest, I''ll be the first to land. That gives me the advantage. Pulling their bodies while they''re in the air will be easy!" *[Menma Manipulation ~ Super Pull!]* In an instant, the air seemed to warp as the bald man''s ability took effect. More than twenty candidates found themselves suspended in mid-air, their bodies pulled toward him against their will. The bald man''s face contorted with effort, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he strained to maintain control. The candidates, now realizing the gravity of the situation, began to panic. "What the hell is this? Why can''t I move?!" one shouted, his voice tinged with fear. "Are they working together? This isn''t fair!" another cried, struggling against the invisible force. The blonde girl, her green eyes glowing with Menma energy, placed her hands on the ground. *[Menma Zone ~ Molecular Conversion!]* In less than a second, the sandy ground within a 30-meter radius transformed into strands of golden hair. The speed of the conversion was breathtaking, the particles of sand and earth rearranging themselves into shimmering locks. The blonde girl''s voice was steady but strained as she spoke. "This is the maximum range I can convert. But don''t think this is all I''ve got!" The golden strands of hair came alive, snaking through the air and wrapping around the suspended candidates. Within moments, more than twenty students were bound in mid-air, their bodies immobilized by the blonde girl''s ability. The candidates'' confusion turned to outright panic as they realized the extent of their predicament. "What kind of ability is this? How is she controlling the ground?!" one screamed, his voice cracking under the strain. "Let me go! This isn''t fair! You can''t just gang up on us like this!" another shouted, his words echoing across the battlefield. The blonde girl exhaled sharply, her face showing signs of exhaustion. "Converting such a large area and controlling the strands to bind over twenty people at once... I didn''t expect it to be this draining..." This marked the end of the third phase of Fayrouz''s plan. The first phase had been the earthquake, disrupting the candidates'' balance. The second phase was the bald man''s move, pulling them into range. And now, the third phase¡ªbinding them with the blonde girl''s hair¡ªhad been executed. ------ You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 20: The Dance of The Green Light *Chapter 20: The Dance of The Green Light* The battlefield was a symphony of chaos, each movement orchestrated with precision and power. Fulan¡¯s team of five had executed Fayrouz¡¯s plan flawlessly, but now, as the dust settled¡ªor rather, as the black smoke billowed¡ªthey found themselves facing a new threat. The air was thick with tension, the scent of burnt hair and ozone mingling with the metallic tang of blood. The stakes had never been higher. Fayrouz¡¯s earthquake had thrown the candidates off balance, their bodies momentarily suspended in mid-air. The bald man, his bronzed muscles gleaming, had unleashed his full power, pulling over twenty students toward him with his gravitational ability. The blonde girl, her green eyes glowing with Menma energy, had transformed the sandy ground into a sea of golden hair, binding the candidates in mid-air. And now, it was the archer¡¯s turn. The archer, his golden eyes sharp and focused, moved with the grace of a predator. He darted across the cracked earth, his boots barely touching the ground as he leaped into the air. His movements were fluid, almost poetic, as he drew an arrow from the quiver on his back. Fayrouz¡¯s blue eyes, glowing faintly with Menma energy, watched him intently. We only have a few seconds before they break free. Everything depends on you, Archer. The archer closed his left eye, focusing solely with his right. His golden eye gleamed as he nocked the first arrow, his movements swift and precise. The arrows flew one after another, embedding themselves into the sea of golden hair. At first, it seemed like he was missing his targets entirely. The arrows didn¡¯t strike any of the bound candidates, and the bald man¡¯s frustration boiled over. "Hey, shorty! Can¡¯t you even hit stationary targets?" he barked, his voice laced with irritation. Even Fayrouz, Fulan, and the blonde girl exchanged uncertain glances. Had the archer missed? But the archer¡¯s smile widened, his golden eyes glowing brighter as Menma energy surged through him. "Miss? Me? That¡¯s an insult... My explosions can be lethal. Knocking out a group of students with these blasts is a reckless plan, but it¡¯s the only way." For a moment, the battlefield was eerily quiet. The arrows, now buried in the golden hair, began to glow with a soft, golden light. The strands of hair shimmered, reflecting the light in a mesmerizing display. The bound candidates, their faces pale with fear, stared at the glowing arrows in confusion. The sight was almost beautiful¡ªa pool of golden hair illuminated by the soft glow of the arrows. But beauty quickly gave way to terror. *[Menma Reaction ~ Cellular Detonation!]* The archer¡¯s voice was calm, almost serene, but his expression was anything but. A manic grin spread across his face, transforming him from the quiet, composed archer into something far more dangerous. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Booooom! The arrows exploded, one after another, in a chain reaction of blinding light and deafening noise. More than twelve explosions erupted simultaneously, the force of the blasts tearing through the golden hair and sending shockwaves rippling across the battlefield. The bound candidates were engulfed in the explosions, their screams drowned out by the roar of the detonations. Black smoke filled the air, obscuring everything in a thick, choking haze. The explosions had drawn the attention of every remaining candidate, their eyes wide with shock and fear. At the edge of the arena, the fifteen successful candidates watched the chaos unfold. Two of them stood side by side, their expressions a mix of amusement and disdain. The first, a tall figure with long blue hair and a calm demeanor, whistled softly. The second, a lean but muscular figure with spiky orange hair and fiery blue eyes, smirked. "A bunch of weaklings teaming up to win. What a joke. Don¡¯t they feel ashamed to succeed like this?" Back in the smoke-filled battlefield, the blonde girl coughed, her green eyes watering as she glared at the archer. "What the?! We told you to knock them out, not kill them!" The archer¡¯s golden eyes dimmed as the Menma energy faded. His voice was calm, almost indifferent. "I made sure the arrows sank into the hair before detonating. They¡¯ll be fine. Or at least, they¡¯ll survive..." Fayrouz stepped forward, her blue eyes scanning the smoke-covered battlefield. "As soon as the smoke clears, we need to start collecting points." The bald man joined them, his expression relaxed but confident. The plan had worked, and they were one step closer to securing their spots among the victors. But Fulan was nowhere to be seen. A few meters away, Fulan stood alone, surrounded by the thick black smoke. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "Guys, I can hear you, but I can¡¯t see you. When is this smoke going to clear?" He moved slowly, cautiously, his senses on high alert. Suddenly, his body tensed, and a white aura enveloped him. His instincts, honed by the White Tiger¡¯s abilities, screamed at him. This tremor... this feeling... I¡¯ll never forget it. One of the White Tiger¡¯s abilities is sensing danger in critical moments. I¡¯m definitely about to be attacked, but from where?! His white eyes darted left and right, the aura around him glowing brighter as he prepared for the inevitable. Fayrouz and the others, still shrouded in smoke, caught glimpses of his white aura piercing through the darkness. The White Tiger¡¯s abilities¡ªspeed of sound and danger perception. Where had Fulan gained these powers? And what was the explanation behind his ability to wield multiple abilities? Flash! A green light, like a shooting star, streaked through the smoke toward Fulan. The speed was incredible, but Fulan¡¯s reflexes, enhanced by the speed of sound, were faster. Fwoosh! He leaped into the air, his white aura trailing behind him like a comet¡¯s tail. The green light followed, slicing through the smoke with deadly precision. The orange-haired candidate at the edge of the arena smirked. "He¡¯s going to lose his head..." Fulan twisted in mid-air, his movements a blur as he narrowly avoided the green light. A thin line of blood appeared on his right cheek, but he didn¡¯t falter. He kicked out with the speed of sound, aiming for the green light, but it darted away before he could connect. Landing on the cracked, sandy ground, Fulan¡¯s eyes narrowed. The smoke still obscured his vision, but he knew the green light would return. "Fayrouz, to the sky!!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. Fayrouz¡¯s blue eyes widened, but she didn¡¯t hesitate. Placing her hands on the ground, she channeled her Menma energy. "Pierce The Sky, Stone Mountain!" Crash!!! ----- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 21: The Twin Tempest Chapter 21: The Twin Tempest The ground beneath Fayrouz''s feet trembled, a deep, resonant quake that sent fine cracks skittering outward. She pressed her hands against the scorched earth, channeling her Menma energy. A low hum rippled through the battlefield, like the breath of something ancient awakening beneath the surface. Then, with a surge of power, the ground around her lurched upward. Soil and stone rose in a controlled, deliberate motion, lifting an entire 20-meter radius high into the sky. Dust spiraled in twisting columns, carried by the sudden upheaval. In mere seconds, a towering earthen pillar stood where flat ground had once been. Its surface was smooth, leveled perfectly¡ªa calculated battleground carved from raw nature. Below, thick black smoke churned like a living beast, obscuring the chaos of the arena. On the elevated platform, seven figures found themselves face-to-face: Fayrouz, Fulan, the blonde girl, the archer, and the bald man¡ªall bound together in an uneasy alliance. But they were not alone. Two others stood near the edge of the platform, their presence heavy, like an approaching storm. The blonde girl''s emerald eyes darted around, trying to make sense of their sudden height. "Another earthquake? No... this is..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The archer''s golden gaze swept the horizon, his expression tightening. His usual calm had given way to unease. "From up here, I can see the other students... but the smoke still blankets the battlefield below." He turned to Fayrouz, frustration evident in his voice. "Why did you do this? We need to get down and collect points before it''s too late!" Fayrouz didn''t answer. Her gaze was locked on Fulan. A faint white aura shimmered around him, barely perceptible against the dim battlefield. His lips curled into a knowing smile¡ªcalm, but brimming with anticipation. "Who would''ve thought," Fulan mused, his voice light yet sharp, "that there was another team in this arena besides us? No... you two were already working together before the exam even started, weren''t you?" The others followed his gaze to the two boys standing near the platform''s edge. Twins. Their dark green hair blended with the night, their rustic brown clothing identical. Even their postures mirrored one another, as if they were reflections split between two bodies. Their smiles, lazy yet unsettling, held an eerie synchronicity. One of them finally spoke, his voice casual but laced with a quiet menace. "We were only two points away from passing." The other twin tilted his head, mirroring the same eerie grin. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "But you got in our way and tried to blow us up." His tone was almost playful. "So, my little brother and I are going to turn your plan upside down... and take the points we need." The first twin frowned slightly. "Huh? But I''m the older brother." "Shut up, Mom said I was born first." "She was talking about me!" Their argument escalated into bickering, foreheads pressing together in a ridiculous standoff. Fulan watched them, the white aura around him pulsing slightly. His grin widened. "I don''t care who''s older. What I do know..." His voice dropped, charged with quiet intensity. "...is that each of you has nine points. And right here, right now, I''m taking eight of them." Fayrouz inhaled sharply, her eyes locked onto the twins. A cold realization settled over her. "We saw them during the orientation day," she muttered, half to herself. Her gaze sharpened, studying the faint shimmer in the air around them. "They possess one of the rarest types of Menma particles... Nature Menma." A gust of wind stirred the battlefield, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves¡ªa stark contrast to the acrid smoke below. The very air seemed to hum with energy, alive with an unseen force. "This is bad," Fayrouz whispered. "We''re surrounded by trees. Hundreds of them. Their power draws from nature itself... In a forest, they''d be nearly unstoppable." The twins'' smiles widened in unison. One of them cocked his head. "Big brother, big brother, that girl sure knows a lot." The other twin chuckled, a mockingly exaggerated nod. "Yeah, yeah. You know what we have to do, right?" "Of course. Killing this girl here and now would be a mercy to humanity." The archer and the blonde girl stepped in front of Fayrouz without hesitation, their stances firm, ready to shield her from any attack. The bald man, standing slightly apart, let out a small laugh. "You''re saying we might lose even with our numbers?" His tone was teasing, but his sharp gaze was fixed on Fulan. "That means your plan to take eight points from them is just a fantasy¡ª" Before he could finish, Fulan moved. A sudden flash of white light burst around him, and in an instant, he was gone. The air cracked in his wake. He lunged toward the left twin, feinting with impossible speed. The twin smirked, already bracing for impact¡ª But Fulan vanished again. He reappeared behind the right twin, his fist hurtling toward his target. For a split second, victory seemed assured. Then¡ª A shudder ran through Fulan''s body. A sickening, instinctive warning surged through his veins. The White Tiger''s danger perception ability flared, screaming at him¡ª Retreat. Now. Fulan twisted his body at the last moment, flipping backward just as the twin''s green aura erupted. From nothing, a barrier of razor-sharp thorns materialized, bristling with lethal intent. Had Fulan continued his attack, his fist would have been impaled. The twins laughed in perfect harmony, the sound light yet chilling. "What''s wrong?" one of them taunted. "Don''t retreat so quickly." Their confidence was unsettling. Not a hint of fear. Not even a shred of doubt. Fulan wiped a bead of sweat from his cheek, his mind working rapidly. I see now... That green aura is the same flash I saw earlier. They can shape it into weapons... or a shield. Deadly offense, impenetrable defense. What an amusing ability. Fayrouz stood ten meters behind him, watching intently. She could see it too. They''re manipulating green Menma particles with absurd precision... Her mind raced. But that level of control... It''s like sprinting at full speed. No matter how skilled they are, they can''t maintain it for long. Three minutes. That''s all they have before they burn out. Her fists clenched. I need to tell Fulan¡ª ------ You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 22: Vs the Green Tempest Chapter 22: Vs the Green Tempest The unexpected clash between Fulan and the green-haired twins unfolded amidst the chaos of the exam. By now, 20 participants had already secured their spots, leaving only 10 seats remaining¡ªand the number was dwindling rapidly. Despite the dire circumstances, Fulan stood with a confident smile, facing the twins head-on. His demeanor was calm, almost playful, as if he relished the challenge. Meanwhile, Fayrouz, standing a few meters behind, was deep in analysis. Her ability to sense and interpret Menma particles allowed her to dissect the twins'' powers with precision. She quickly identified a critical weakness in their technique: their green Menma aura, while formidable, was unsustainable. The sheer energy required to maintain it would exhaust them within minutes. She wanted to relay this information to Fulan, but he was already locked in a fierce battle, leaving her no opportunity to intervene. One of the twins, his voice eerily calm, taunted Fulan as he prepared his next move. "If you move too much, you''ll die. Stay still, or I might accidentally hit a vital organ." His words were a chilling prelude to the attack that followed. With a swift motion, he conjured a bow and arrow from his green aura. The arrow, glowing with a fantastical green flame, was aimed directly at Fulan. Fulan, however, was unfazed. With a burst of speed, he dodged the arrow effortlessly, leaping to the north at the speed of sound. But while Fulan evaded the attack, his teammates were now in the line of fire. The arrow hurtled toward them, its green flame blazing ominously. The blonde girl was the first to react. Her green eyes glowed as she slammed her hands onto the ground, activating her Menma ability. [Menma Zone ~ Molecular Conversion ~ Hair Wave!] In an instant, the ground in front of the team transformed into a wave of hair, surging forward like water to intercept the green arrow. The hair wave collided with the arrow, neutralizing it completely. The twins'' attack had been thwarted¡ªfor now. The second twin, witnessing this, smirked and conjured two broad daggers from his green aura. His movements were fluid, almost artistic, as he twirled the blades with practiced ease. "It seems my little brother is still weak at controlling his aura, as usual," he remarked, his tone dripping with mockery. Without warning, he lunged toward Fulan''s team, his body moving like a green flash. It was now clear that he was the one who had been attacking Fulan within the black smoke earlier. Fulan, recognizing the threat, shot forward at the speed of sound, intercepting the twin mid-charge. So, you''re the one who was trying to slice me apart in the smoke, Fulan thought, his mind racing. No doubt you can cut through those hair strands like a professional butcher¡ªor maybe a fan? But speed is my domain, and if we''re talking about speed, I''m the best! Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Fulan chased after the green flash, his movements a blur. The rest of the team, unable to react in time, could only watch as the twin began slicing through the hair wave with terrifying precision. His daggers moved like a whirlwind, cutting through the strands in seconds. The sight was mesmerizing, not just for his speed but for the sheer skill of his technique. He was like a human fan, spinning and slashing with deadly accuracy. In just two seconds, he broke through the hair wave, emerging on the other side with a menacing grin. The team froze, realizing they had no time to react. The bald man''s pushing ability required time to activate, Fayrouz''s stone wall wouldn''t form fast enough, and the archer''s skills were ill-suited for close combat. The blonde girl''s defense had already been breached. They were helpless. But Fulan was not. In the blink of an eye, Fulan appeared in front of his team, his white aura flaring as he delivered a powerful kick to the twin''s abdomen. The impact was so forceful that it cracked the green aura surrounding the twin, sending him reeling backward. The twin, though unharmed, was visibly shaken. His aura, once impenetrable, had been breached. Fulan smirked, his white aura intensifying. "So, your ability can be broken after all," he said, his voice calm but laced with triumph. "Team, start collecting points now. As for me, I''ll be taking mine from these two!" With a burst of speed, Fulan charged toward the retreating twin, his movements so fast that they sent ripples through Fayrouz''s and the blonde girl''s hair. The archer, seeing the opportunity, shouted to the others, "If we don''t move now, the other students will recover! Let''s go!" The bald man and the blonde girl followed the archer, sprinting toward the edge of the platform to collect points from the unconscious students. Fayrouz, however, hesitated, her eyes fixed on Fulan. She watched as he closed the distance to the twin, who had merged his daggers into a long green sword in a desperate attempt to counterattack. But Fulan was faster. Before the twin could swing his blade, Fulan delivered a devastating kick to his chin, sending him flying into the air. The other twin, realizing his brother was in danger, fired another green flame arrow, but Fulan dodged it effortlessly, tilting his head slightly as the arrow whizzed past. He glanced at the twin, his expression calm but calculating. That look on your face... Fulan thought. You''re trying to protect someone dear to you, but you know you can''t. It''s clear now¡ªyou''re the younger brother. Watching your older sibling fall must be hard. But don''t worry, I''m already an enemy to everyone in this kingdom. In less than two seconds, Fulan unleashed a flurry of eight precise punches to the airborne twin''s abdomen. Each strike cracked the green aura further until it shattered completely. The older twin''s eyes rolled back as he fell to the ground, unconscious. Fulan landed gracefully, his black hair swaying in the wind. He glanced at Fayrouz, then dashed toward her, scooping her up in his arms before leaping off the platform. The exam was in its final seconds, and Fulan had secured his 10 points. The rest of the team had also succeeded, bringing the total number of successful participants to 28. Only two seats remained. As they descended, Fayrouz looked at Fulan, her expression a mix of shock and gratitude. Fulan, for his part, felt a strange sense of justice. He couldn''t let a talented, albeit annoying, girl like Fayrouz be eliminated. It just wouldn''t be fair. ------ You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 23: The Shadows Embrace Chapter 23: The Shadow''s Embrace The Ragandarok Academy testing grounds lay shrouded in an eerie silence, broken only by the whispering wind and the occasional groan of the fallen. Less than ten minutes had passed since the exam had begun, and already, twenty-eight participants had secured their spots. High above the battlefield, a massive stone platform¡ªcarved by Fayrouz¡¯s hand¡ªstood as a solemn monument to the final moments of the test. Dark clouds churned in the sky, casting long, restless shadows over the towering rock formation. At its peak, the green-haired twins stood in stark contrast against the overcast heavens. The younger twin knelt on the cold, uneven stone, his brother¡¯s head resting gently in his lap. The older twin lay still, his breath shallow, yet his lips curled in a faint, peaceful smile. The silence between them was thick, heavier than the storm clouds above, broken only by the occasional drop of rain that splattered against the stone. A single tear traced down the younger twin¡¯s cheek, falling onto his brother¡¯s skin like a raindrop kissing a dying flame. The older twin¡¯s smile widened ever so slightly as he spoke, his voice soft and strained. "As always... you''re the crybaby. That¡¯s how Mom always knew which of us was older. It¡¯s how she remembered our names..." Haru clenched his fists, his green eyes gleaming with unshed tears. His brother¡¯s words were a cruel echo of their childhood, a reminder of their bond, but they did nothing to lessen the bitter weight pressing against his chest. His voice trembled as he spoke. "So many have already passed¡­ Our dream, our goal¡­ we can¡¯t achieve it now. Not after all our training." The older twin¡¯s smile wavered for a moment, his exhaustion deepening. He exhaled slowly before responding, his voice calm but undeniably weak. "We can¡¯t? That¡¯s not true." He hesitated, then continued, each word carrying the weight of a final confession. "The truth is¡­ I¡¯m weak, Haru. I¡¯m not as talented as you. Our family possesses rare and powerful Menma cells, but our bodies¡­ they¡¯re fragile. We can¡¯t endure pain like the others can. That¡¯s why I lost so easily. If my aura had been as strong as yours, I wouldn¡¯t have fallen so quickly." His fingers twitched as if grasping for something unseen. "But this way¡­ I can entrust everything to you." The wind howled mournfully as the storm above thickened, the scent of wet stone and earth mingling with the fading embers of the battlefield below. "Don¡¯t say we can¡¯t. You can do it." His voice wavered slightly but steadied. "Haru, I was never meant for this. I knew that from the beginning. I was afraid I¡¯d only hold you back in this exam. My only goal was to ensure your success." A bolt of lightning split the sky in the distance, illuminating the battlefield for the briefest of moments before plunging it back into gloom. "There¡¯s still a way for you to pass," the older twin continued, his breath ragged now. "You have nine points¡­ and that boy took exactly eight from me. That means I still have one left." He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to finish before his strength gave out. "Take it. Pass this exam. For me¡­ for Mom. You must move forward. You must join the Exploration Corps." This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Haru''s hands trembled. Their dream was not about glory or riches. It was about finding her¡ªtheir mother. The Exploration Corps was their only chance, the safest way to uncover the truth behind her disappearance. Somewhere beyond the kingdom¡¯s borders, lost in the uncharted lands, was the answer they had sought for years. Over 1,601 years had passed since Menma first spread across the world, changing everything. The lands beyond Saita Kingdom were riddled with dangers, harboring horrors far worse than the bandits Fayrouz and Fulan had fought earlier. And yet, that was where their mother had vanished. Haru hesitated, his heart twisting. If he refused, he would have to wait three more years before taking the exam again¡ªthree years they couldn¡¯t afford to lose. With a deep, shuddering breath, he clenched his jaw and struck his brother¡¯s thigh with a trembling hand, absorbing the final point. The older twin exhaled softly, his smile returning. His voice was barely more than a whisper now. "Thank you¡­ for being smart enough not to argue." His consciousness faded, his body finally succumbing to exhaustion. Haru bit his lip, his vision blurring as he stared at his brother¡¯s still form. Grief burned hot in his chest, but beneath it, something stronger smoldered¡ªresolve. He would not let his brother¡¯s sacrifice be in vain. He would join the Exploration Corps. No matter the cost. Below the mountain platform, the battlefield lay in ruin. The acrid scent of scorched earth clung to the air, mingling with the lingering traces of burnt cloth and sweat. The black smoke had thinned, revealing the aftermath of the brutal struggle. Unconscious students were scattered across the ground, their bodies bruised, their clothes singed from earlier explosions. Fayrouz stood among them, her expression conflicted as she drove a controlled blow into the gut of a barely conscious participant, knocking them out completely. She exhaled, watching the student crumple to the ground before muttering under her breath, "I know this was the plan¡­ but seeing this¡­ I can¡¯t help but wonder if this was really the right way." Nearby, her teammates surveyed the battlefield with grim expressions. The blonde girl beside her, her green eyes sharp yet thoughtful, responded in a hushed tone. "I understand what you mean. This scene¡­ it¡¯s tragic. But this is Ragandarok Academy. Surely, they have a solution for this¡­ right?" As if summoned by her words, the air suddenly shifted. A massive shadow spread across the battlefield like ink spilled upon the earth, devouring every corner in its path. A suffocating weight descended, freezing everyone in place. The darkness was absolute, swallowing even the light itself. Then, from within the abyss, he emerged. An elderly man, his white hair and beard stark against the void behind him. His presence alone silenced the battlefield, an unshakable aura of authority radiating from his calm, measured steps. It was the academy¡¯s head servant¡ªthe silent overseer of the exam. His gaze swept over the battlefield before he addressed the blonde girl with an almost amused expression. "You¡¯re right, young lady." His voice was steady, unhurried. "All the students here are our guests. And we honor our guests to the very end." His gaze darkened, sharp as a blade. "Did you ever wonder why no one dies in this academy, despite the dangers of these exams?" He let the question linger before answering it himself. "The reason is simple: we ensure that doesn¡¯t happen." He raised a single hand. "Did you think I wasn¡¯t watching over you all this time?" With a snap of his fingers, the vast shadow writhed, surging forward like a living entity. One by one, the injured and unconscious students were engulfed by the darkness. Their faint murmurs of confusion barely had time to escape before they vanished entirely into the void. The team watched in stunned silence. The old man¡¯s voice was calm, yet final. "Bless your efforts, rising stars." The students consumed by the shadow would awaken in Ragandarok Academy¡¯s hospital, their wounds healed by Menma-infused medicine¡ªone of the academy¡¯s greatest mysteries. The exam had ended. And the number of successful candidates had finally reached thirty. ----- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 24: The Hall of Choices **Chapter 24: The Hall of Choices** The grand wooden hall of Ragandarok Academy stood as a testament to timeless craftsmanship, its walls, floor, and ceiling all carved from rich, dark timber that seemed to hum with the whispers of countless generations. The air carried the faint scent of aged wood, mingling with the quiet tension of the thirty successful candidates scattered across the room. The hall was vast, its high vaulted ceiling supported by thick wooden beams that stretched like the ribs of some ancient beast. At the far end, a raised wooden platform stood, its surface polished to a mirror-like sheen, waiting for the next speaker to take the stage. The seats, arranged in neat rows, were also carved from the same dark wood, their surfaces smooth from years of use. Yet, despite the hall''s capacity to hold hundreds, only thirty students occupied the space, leaving dozens of seats empty. The distance between them was palpable, each candidate sitting isolated, their postures and expressions reflecting their unique personalities. Some sat upright, their eyes sharp and calculating, while others slouched, their faces etched with exhaustion or indifference. The silence was heavy, broken only by the occasional creak of wood or the faint rustle of clothing as someone shifted in their seat. The reason for this separation was simple: these students were strangers to one another. They had fought, bled, and triumphed in the exam, but beyond that, they knew nothing of each other''s lives, dreams, or fears. The hall, with its empty seats and scattered occupants, felt like a liminal space, a place where destinies were about to intertwine but had not yet done so. The only exception to this isolation was Fulan''s team. The blonde girl, the bald man, the archer, and Fayrouz¡ªthey sat close together, their proximity a silent acknowledgment of the bond they had formed during the exam. Though they were still far from being friends, their shared experience had created a fragile thread of camaraderie. The blonde girl, Lazaria, sat with her back straight, her green eyes scanning the room with a calm curiosity. Her fair skin seemed to glow in the dim light filtering through the hall''s high windows, and her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall of sunlight. Behind her, the bald man, Mondo, leaned back in his seat, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief. His tanned skin and muscular frame gave him the appearance of a seasoned adventurer, though his carefree demeanor suggested he was more interested in the journey than the destination. The archer, Tauro, sat a seat away from Mondo, his white-blond hair tinged with a hint of yellow, like the first light of dawn. His green attire, tailored for mobility, was complemented by the quiver of arrows and bow resting on the empty seat beside him. His golden eyes were half-closed, as if he were dozing, but the sharpness in his voice betrayed his alertness. Fayrouz, with her striking blue eyes and snow-white skin, sat closest to Fulan. Her black hair, streaked with strands of blue, framed her face like a dark halo. She exuded an air of quiet confidence, her presence both calming and commanding. The silence was broken by Mondo, who stretched his arms and let out a low groan. "This is boring as hell. When is the guy supposed to show up so we can pick our specialties?" Lazaria, seated in front of him, turned slightly, her green eyes meeting his. "Speaking of which," she said softly, "what specialty does each of you want to pursue?" Tauro, his eyes still half-closed, responded in a calm, almost sleepy tone. "We don''t even know each other''s names yet. How can we know each other''s desires? Fulan, we know his name because he was foolish enough to lose two points before the exam even started. As for Fayrouz, we know her name because we heard Fulan call her by it." Lazaria nodded, her expression thoughtful. "You''re right. I hadn''t considered that. I''m Lazaria. The family name isn''t important, right? I''ll definitely join the Knights. What about the rest of you?" Mondo turned to her, his face suddenly serious as he leaned closer, his brown eyes narrowing as if trying to place her features. "By the way, I''ve been meaning to say this for a while now," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Your face looks familiar, like I''ve seen you somewhere before..." Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Lazaria pushed his face away gently, her tone calm but firm. "I don''t think I''d forget someone with a skull like yours. You must be mistaking me for someone else." Mondo chuckled, leaning back and placing a hand on his head. "Hmm, maybe I am wrong." He then grinned at the group, his earlier seriousness replaced by his usual optimism. "Anyway, I''m Mondo. Mondo Kondo. Men are born free to live as they please, and I''ve decided to be an adventurer because they seem so cool. They do whatever they want, whenever they want. No one gives them orders. That''s why I want to be an adventurer." As Mondo spoke, his enthusiasm was infectious, his smile wide and unguarded. Fulan, however, seemed lost in thought, his black eyes distant. In their reflective depths, Mondo''s animated figure appeared as a faint, blurred image, a reminder of a childhood memory that had surfaced unbidden. . . . . In a small, crumbling wooden house, the sound of boiling soup filled the air. Sunlight streamed through a cracked glass window, illuminating the figure of a woman in her thirties¡ªFulan''s mother. Her black hair cascaded down her back, and her dark eyes, so like Fulan''s, were focused on the vegetables she was chopping. "You want to be an adventurer?" she asked, her voice soft but tinged with concern. She paused, setting the knife down as she turned to face her son. "I could never allow you to do something so dangerous. It would be better for you to find a simple job with a craftsman. You''re still young, Fulan. Don''t think about such things yet." Fulan, just seven years old at the time, stood behind her, clutching a wooden sword and wearing a makeshift hero''s cape. He swung the sword dramatically, his voice filled with childish determination. "Working for a craftsman? That''s no fun at all! Bang, slash, boom! I''ll travel the world, fight all kinds of monsters, and then buy us a bigger, better house with the reward money!" His mother resumed chopping the vegetables, a sad smile on her face. "I''m sorry, Fulan. I wouldn''t oppose you if you had the talent. If only you had inherited your father''s genes instead of mine. We''re talentless, Fulan. We have no right to dream such dreams. Everything was decided the day you were born with those black eyes. I''m sorry you''re my son..." Unseen by Fulan, tears fell onto her hands as she chopped, her heart heavy with unspoken regret. Fulan was pulled back to reality by Fayrouz''s touch on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked, her blue eyes searching his face. He blinked, quickly regaining his composure. "Is it my turn? Well, I''m Fulan Nanimo. I want to join the Knights." The others showed no surprise, as they knew little about Fulan. Fayrouz, however, tilted her head slightly. "I''m surprised. I''ve never heard you talk about wanting to be a Knight before." Before Fulan could respond, Tauro opened his golden eyes and spoke in his usual calm tone. "Since everyone has introduced themselves, it''s my turn. I''m Tauro. The first name is enough, as Lazaria said. I want to be a member of the Exploration Corps." Mondo grinned, his earlier seriousness replaced by his usual cheerfulness. "So this is the end of our alliance, huh? Well, since this is goodbye, let''s all do our best!" The team exchanged smiles, their bond, though fragile, genuine in that moment. Each of them hid their true motivations, but their desires were sincere. Minutes later, a tall man with gray hair and green eyes entered the hall. Dressed in a sleek gray suit that matched his hair, he distributed papers and pens to the thirty students. Once done, he stood at the wooden podium, his gaze sweeping over the room. "Each of you has one sheet of paper," he announced, his voice calm but commanding. "Write down your full name and the specialty you wish to pursue. Do you want to be a Knight, an adventurer, or a member of the Exploration Corps? Be aware that this choice is final. Tomorrow, your studies at the academy will begin in earnest, so take your time and think carefully before writing." The students wasted no time in filling out their papers, their goals already clear. Fulan, however, hesitated for a moment, his black eyes reflecting the weight of his thoughts. ''It''s not like that, Mother. We were never talentless. We were the pinnacle of talent all along... Three whole years... It''s such a long time. The people I''ll study with and spend most of my time with will eventually become my enemies. Every moment of joy in this academy will be false for me... To see the King, to assassinate the King, to save the clan... I must sacrifice my life and all my desires...'' . You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 25: Beyond the Exam Chapter 25: Beyond the Exam An hour had passed since the conclusion of the entrance exam, and after submitting the form with his chosen specialization and name, Fulan left the hall without a word to anyone. The academy''s corridors, with their wooden floors and walls illuminated by golden lanterns, stretched before him like a labyrinth of shadows and light. The warm glow of the lanterns cast intricate patterns on the polished wood, creating an atmosphere that was both serene and imposing. Fulan, with his black hair and dark eyes, walked quietly through the corridor, occasionally passing other students he didn''t recognize. The academy''s interior design was elegant and refined, a fact that didn''t escape Fulan as he took in the details of the place where he would spend the next three years of his life. When he reached the male dormitory wing¡ªa section of the academy clearly divided between male and female quarters¡ªhe paused for a moment outside his room. He stood silently for a few seconds, his hand hovering over the bronze handle of the brown wooden door. He suspected Akira might be inside. After three seconds of silence, he turned the handle and opened the door, only to be met with a surprising sight. Akira stood there, dressed in a blue jacket and gray pants, a black bag slung over his right shoulder. His light blue spiky hair and piercing blue eyes gave him an intense, almost electric presence. He looked as though he was about to leave the room. The two locked eyes, and for a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence. Fulan remained quiet, while Akira clenched his teeth, his anger visibly rising. In a sudden burst of motion, Akira grabbed Fulan''s shirt and shoved him against the wall, his blue eyes glowing with barely contained fury. "I respected you on the first day, Fulan," Akira hissed, his voice low but seething. "I thought we''d be on good terms if we both passed the exam. That''s why I came to you and proposed an alliance. But instead, you chose to team up with those weaklings instead of me?! If it weren''t for you, I would''ve passed! What''s wrong with you?!" Fulan''s dark eyes remained calm as he studied Akira''s furious expression. After a brief pause, Fulan placed his hand on Akira''s wrist and replied in a steady voice, "The White Tiger is a ferocious beast, and it can sense killing intent. That girl was too honest, too straightforward. Before you could strike her down like lightning, I had already moved to protect her. I felt your intent to kill. But it took me longer to reach her than it would''ve taken you. After all, I''m not as skilled in using your ability as you are. I''m lucky that I was closer to her than you in the arena." Akira''s teeth ground together so hard that small sparks of blue lightning flickered around his face, appearing and disappearing like a storm about to break. "That''s exactly what makes me angry!" he snapped. "What do you mean by ''White Tiger''? And how are you able to use my cursed ability?!" Fulan met Akira''s gaze directly, his black eyes cold and unyielding, as if their dark depths could swallow the anger burning in Akira''s blue eyes. "Tell me, Akira," Fulan said calmly, "do you think you''re the only one born with talent? Or are you just angry because I used the ability you''ve spent years honing?" Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Akira''s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, the fury in them wavered. Fulan''s words had struck a nerve. The glowing aura of anger around Akira dimmed, and he released Fulan''s shirt, taking a step back. *Tch!* The blue light in Akira''s eyes faded, and he turned away, walking toward the door. "I''m not done here," he said, his voice quieter but still firm. "I''ll never stop. Three years? So what? I''ll spend every second of it training, and then I''ll come back. I''m Akira Denki, and one day, I''ll become one of the Crystal Knights. Remember my name, Fulan..." With that, Akira left the room, the door closing behind him with a soft click. Fulan leaned against the wall for a moment before slowly sliding down to sit on the floor, catching his breath after the long day. He turned his dark eyes toward the window, where the sky was overcast, draped in the unpredictable mood of autumn weather, and let out a quiet sigh. ''You''re right, Akira. You have more than enough talent to become a Crystal Knight in the future. You could become truly powerful. That''s exactly why I had to make sure you failed the exam. If you had passed, you would''ve been with us¡ªthe group that gets to meet the King on graduation day. It''s a rare event, happening only once a year, and it''s crucial for my plan. If I were to rush at the King at the speed of sound, you would intervene and stop me. You have the speed to do that. That''s why I had to remove you from my path now. I owe you an apology, of course, but don''t worry. I owe everyone an apology, even myself...'' The assassination Fulan thought about every day was the foundation of the entire story, an event that would determine the fate of the kingdom. If the Kingdom of Saita were to fall, the entire world would enter an era of unprecedented change. This was exactly what the King of the fallen kingdom of Tania had intended all along. The man who had sent Fulan on this mission after threatening to execute every member of his clan. Many cards had been revealed, but every answer only led to more questions and secrets... --- Meanwhile, in one of the academy''s lantern-lit corridors, Fayrouz and the blond girl, Lazaria, walked side by side toward their dormitory after submitting their forms. The corridor, unlike the quiet one Fulan had walked through earlier, was now alive with activity. The injured students had been healed, and those who had failed the exam were gathering their belongings and preparing to leave the academy. The sight prompted Lazaria to comment, "All their injuries and burns are gone. What kind of treatment did they use on them?" Fayrouz, lost in thought, walked quietly with her eyes fixed on the ground. ''Even though I boasted that I''d give him eight points as a gift, he ended up earning them on his own. I guess I still owe him after all...'' The only thing that snapped Fayrouz out of her thoughts was Lazaria suddenly stopping in her tracks. Fayrouz lifted her gaze from the floor and followed Lazaria''s line of sight, only to find Mondo standing in front of them. He looked unusually serious, his gaze fixed on Fayrouz''s blue eyes. Before she could process the situation, Mondo spoke in a calm but firm tone, "Fayrouz, this is the first time I''ve called you by your name, right? I''m not good with sweet talk, so I''ll just say it directly: I want you to go out in a date with me." The corridor, once filled with the murmurs of students and the sound of footsteps, fell silent as all eyes turned toward the unxpected scene. ----- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 26: The Weight of Choices Chapter 26: The Weight of Choices "I''ll say it directly. I want you to go out in a date with me..." These were the words of the bald man, Mundo, as he stood in the middle of the academy corridor, blocking Fayrouz and Lazaria''s path. His voice, though calm, carried a weight that immediately drew the attention of nearby students. Some who overheard his bold declaration paused, curiosity piqued, and lingered to see how the situation would unfold. Fayrouz, her black hair framing her pale face and her piercing blue eyes locked onto Mondo, stood silently, her expression unreadable. Mondo, for his part, met her gaze with equal intensity, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness. The corridor, once filled with the murmurs of students and the soft shuffle of footsteps, fell into an awkward silence that stretched for a full ten seconds. The students around them, who had initially paused in their movements, exchanged quick glances. Some stifled whispers, their eyes darting nervously between Mundo and Fayrouz. Finally, Lazaria, the blond girl and also Fayrouz''s roommate, sensing the tension, tried to slip away, her voice low as she glanced at Fayrouz. "I think I''ll leave you two alone for a moment¡ª" Before she could finish, Fayrouz responded, her voice calm but firm, cutting through the silence like a blade. "Knights are individuals who dedicate their lives to protecting the innocent, both within and outside the kingdom. I don¡¯t have time to indulge in romantic feelings." Her answer was sharp, delivered with a stoic expression and unwavering blue eyes. The students who had gathered around them began to whisper among themselves, their voices carrying a mix of amusement and pity. "Ouch, man. He got rejected." "Maybe he should¡¯ve waited a bit. Tomorrow¡¯s the first day, and they¡¯ll be studying together for three years." "Perhaps he failed the exam and wanted to confess before leaving." "That girl¡¯s a bit harsh. She could¡¯ve let him down more gently." As the whispers grew louder, Lazaria, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, grabbed Fayrouz¡¯s hand and began to pull her away. "Maybe it¡¯s best if we leave now..." As they walked away, Lazaria glanced back at Mundo, who called out in a voice loud enough for both of them to hear, "Lazaria, I remember now. Your features... you really do look like her. I can understand why you chose the path of the Knights." Lazaria froze mid-step, her body stiffening for a moment. She had expected him to be depressed due to the rejection he faced, but he quickly changed the subject. She couldn¡¯t tell if he was just trying to lighten the mood since everyone was watching them, or if he truly meant what he said. Fayrouz, noticing her hesitation, was about to ask if something was wrong, but Lazaria suddenly turned back to Mundo and replied in a quiet but steady voice, "Once again, you¡¯re jumping to the wrong conclusions. It¡¯s impossible for someone as weak as me to be related to her..." With that, Lazaria continued walking, pulling Fayrouz with her and leaving Mondo to ponder her words as he too began to move away from the crowd. ¡®It¡¯s obvious you¡¯re her younger sister or something similar. Why do you refuse to let people know your family name so adamantly?¡¯ Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Mundo walked slowly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his quasi-military pants. His brown eyes, clouded with sorrow and melancholy, scanned the room, lost in thought. The soft murmurs of the students echoed in the background, but he barely noticed them. As he moved, it seemed as though the weight of his own thoughts carried him. It seems that the relationship between a knight girl like her who will dedicate her life to save people, and an adventurer like me who will live freely, is just impossible after all. --- Later that evening, in the headmaster¡¯s office, the atmosphere was markedly different. The room was dimly lit by a small lamp filled with Menma particles, their soft glow casting long shadows across the wooden desk and the stacks of papers scattered across it. The headmaster, a man with light brown hair and calm, calculating eyes, sat behind his desk, quietly reviewing a set of documents. Standing before him were three individuals, each distinct in appearance and demeanor. The first was a man with gray hair and green eyes, dressed in a sleek gray suit that matched his hair. He was the same man who had distributed the forms to the successful candidates earlier in the day. The second was a young woman with black hair tied into a playful ponytail, her brown eyes hidden behind elegant, stylish glasses with a soft, curved frame that perfectly matched the color of her eyes. She wore loose black clothing, her posture relaxed, but her sharp gaze carried a hint of curiosity and mischief. Her fair skin added a soft contrast to her striking features, giving her a unique charm. The third was a man in his thirties, his blond hair disheveled and his brown eyes heavy with exhaustion. He wore a rumpled black outfit, clearly uninterested in his appearance, and yawned repeatedly, as if waiting for the meeting to end. The headmaster looked up from his papers, his light brown eyes shifting between the three of them. "Tomorrow, the regular academic schedule will begin," he said, his voice calm but authoritative. "Since all the third-year students you were supervising have graduated successfully, you will now be responsible for the new students." The young woman with the ponytail spoke first, her tone matter-of-fact. "That¡¯s obvious. I¡¯ll take charge of the Exploration Corps, as usual." The headmaster nodded, adding, "I¡¯m the new employee here, unlike you, so please forgive me as you already know your work better than I do." The three of them looked at him calmly, realizing that his humility didn¡¯t quite match reality. Despite his young age, no one could deny that he was an extraordinary person. A man who had taken the Raghandarok Academy into a new era in the last three years, and the fruits of his changes would continue to unfold with time. "However," He continued the conversation calmly. "There¡¯s an unusual coincidence this year: each specialization has exactly ten students. This means each of you will be responsible for teaching ten individuals." The man in the gray suit moved his lips with a calm and serious tone. "I had to teach over forty students last year. Teaching only ten sounds like a luxury." The blond man, who had been yawning throughout the meeting, stepped forward and picked up the file containing the names of the students who had chosen the Adventurer specialization. As he turned to leave, he muttered, "It hasn¡¯t even been a week since the third-years graduated, and now we¡¯re already tasked with teaching the new ones. A one-week break isn¡¯t enough. I wanted more time to read and study the wonders of Menma... but no matter. I¡¯m confident I¡¯ll have talented students as usual. There¡¯s nothing better than discovering a rare ability..." With that, he left the room, leaving the other two instructors and the headmaster behind. It was now clear who these three individuals were: the teachers who would guide the new students starting tomorrow. The lazy blond man was responsible for the Adventurers, the young woman with the ponytail oversaw the Exploration Corps, and the man in the gray suit would handle the Knights. As the headmaster leaned back in his chair, the lamp¡¯s soft glow illuminating his thoughtful expression, he murmured to himself, "This year¡¯s batch is... interesting. Let¡¯s see how far they can go." The stage was set, and the lives of the new students were about to change forever. . . You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 27: A New Day at Ragandarok Academy Chapter 27: A New Day at Ragandarok Academy. The morning sun cast its golden rays over Ragandarok Academy, its warm light filtering through the tall windows and illuminating the wooden corridors and classrooms. A gentle breeze swept across the campus, rustling the leaves of the trees and carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers. For the teachers and upperclassmen, it was just another ordinary day. But for the first-year students, it was a day filled with anticipation and excitement¡ªa day that marked the beginning of their journey at the most prestigious academy in the world. The academy''s halls buzzed with activity as students and teachers prepared for their classes. The classrooms varied in size, some capable of accommodating over a hundred students, while others were smaller, designed for more intimate groups. In one such small wooden classroom, ten wooden desks were neatly arranged, each spaced at least a meter apart. This was the classroom for the first-year Knights, Fulan''s class. The classroom was a simple yet well-crafted structure, built entirely from light-colored wood with a smooth, polished finish. The walls, floor, and ceiling carried the natural warmth of honeyed oak, their gentle grain patterns adding a sense of quiet elegance. The faint scent of timber still lingered in the air, blending with the subtle chalky aroma from the blackboard at the front of the room. The blackboard stood tall, its deep, matte surface a stark contrast to the pale wood surrounding it. Faint streaks of past lessons ghosted its surface, and on the narrow wooden ledge below, several sticks of chalk lay scattered¡ªsome pristine, others worn down to nubs. A dust-laden eraser rested beside them, evidence of countless wiped-away formulas and sentences. Sunlight streamed through the large glass windows, their wooden frames painted a muted, earthy tone. The bright daylight spilled across the floor, casting soft, shifting patterns as the breeze rustled the trees outside. Hanging from the ceiling by sturdy chains, several lanterns flickered with a steady, almost electric glow. Their mysterious energy, generated by the movement of Menma particles within the lanterns, but this glow was nearly swallowed by the abundance of natural illumination. Each desk, carved from the same light wood as the walls, bore a neatly written name in bold black ink, ensuring every student knew their designated seat. The writing was precise and well-maintained, refreshed when necessary to keep it from fading. The desks themselves, though showing signs of years of use, remained in good condition¡ªsmooth surfaces free from deep scratches or careless carvings. They stood as quiet testaments to discipline and order, reflecting the structured nature of the classroom. The students, dressed in the academy''s uniform of black and white, sat quietly, their expressions a mix of curiosity and focus. The atmosphere was serene, the only sound being the soft creak of wooden floors as the teacher entered the room. Fayrouz, Lazaria, and Fulan sat in separate seats, their names were elegantly written in black ink on the wooden desks. These three had been the last to pass the exam, while the other seven had succeeded in shorter times¡ªa testament to their talent and worthiness of their seats in the academy. Fulan was acutely aware of this fact. As he sat quietly, his dark eyes observing the teacher who had just entered, his thoughts were already racing. ''All these people will accompany me to meet the King on graduation day. I need to spend every second analyzing and understanding their abilities to ensure they don''t interfere with my plan.'' The teacher, a man with gray hair, green eyes, and a matching gray suit, exuded an air of calm authority. His pale skin and natural build gave him an approachable yet commanding presence. He placed a stack of papers on his desk near the chalkboard and addressed the class without sitting down. "I am Makoto Shura," he began, his voice steady and clear. "Starting today, I will be responsible for you, future Knights. It''s rare for teachers to change in the second and third years, so it''s likely I''ll be with you for all three years. This is ideal, as it''s enough time to extract and polish the rare metal within each of you." Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. He was referring to the students'' latent abilities, emphasizing the importance of understanding and refining them. Makoto continued, his tone calm but firm, "We cannot use our abilities effectively without truly understanding them. What you''ve done so far has been instinctual, perhaps aided by personal training. But effort alone isn''t enough for self-improvement. We must first identify the problem, propose solutions, and choose the right one. Trying to fix yourself without knowing the root issue is like searching for a fruit that doesn''t exist in the market. That''s why the first lesson you must learn at this academy is..." He turned to the chalkboard and picked up a piece of chalk, its rough texture pressing against his fingertips. As he brought it to the board, a sharp click echoed through the quiet classroom, followed by the steady, rhythmic scratching of chalk against slate. With deliberate strokes, he wrote the question in bold letters, the sound of each line filling the still air. Finally, he circled it for emphasis, the faint squeak of chalk lingering as the words stood out against the dark surface: "Where do Menma cells come from, and what exactly are they?" Only a few minutes had passed since Makoto entered the room, yet he had already captured the students'' full attention. His method of teaching¡ªdirect, insightful, and engaging¡ªwas unlike anything they had experienced before. Fulan, in particular, found himself drawn to the man''s demeanor, which reminded him of his former mentor. ''Even his way of speaking is similar. This is the correct way to use Menma particles¡ªwithout understanding, talent is useless. That''s what my mentor told me during our first meeting, and his words changed everything...'' As Fulan reminisced, Makoto began to explain. "The famous story you all know tells of a virus that spread 1,601 years ago, nearly wiping out humanity. Doctors failed to create a cure, but a madman devised an antidote made from the virus itself. 93% of people died from the virus, and some died immediately after being injected with the antidote. The 7% who survived didn''t regain full health; their immune systems were severely weakened, leading to a gradual decline over the century. However, when the survivors had children, their offspring were healthy, and the Menma genes evolved from generation to generation, leading to the abilities we have today." He paused, letting the information sink in before continuing. "Knowing history is good, but this isn''t even the first step. The first step to developing your abilities is letting me see them directly. Stand up and follow me to the Knights'' training grounds. It''s time to analyze and understand your abilities." Less than ten minutes had passed since Makoto entered the classroom, and already he was leading the students to their first practical lesson. Teachers at Ragandarok Academy were given the freedom to teach as they saw fit, a testament to their expertise and the trust placed in them by the institution. The students stood and followed Makoto out of the classroom, their footsteps echoing through the wooden corridors. The silence among them was palpable, broken only by the occasional whisper between Lazaria and Fayrouz. Fulan, walking at the back, remained quiet, his thoughts focused on the task ahead. Lazaria, glancing between Fayrouz and Fulan, couldn''t help but wonder about the nature of their relationship. *''What kind of bond do they share? What would Fulan do if he knew someone confessed to her yesterday?''* As they stepped outside, the cool breeze tousled their hair, and the overcast sky allowed occasional beams of sunlight to break through. The training grounds for the Knights were similar to the exam arena¡ªearthy and surrounded by a circular arrangement of trees. Makoto stood before the students, pulling out a small notebook from his pocket. Each page was dedicated to a student, their names written as titles. This was where he would record his observations, a testament to his dedication to their growth. Makoto flipped to the first page and looked up, his gray hair swaying in the wind. "Knights are the guardians of justice, and as such, they deserve a training regimen superior to that of adventurers and the Exploration Corps. That''s what I intend to provide. The first person is Hikari Noiya. According to my records, you were the first to pass the exam, succeeding in less than two minutes. Whether it was luck or talent, show me your skill. Step forward, take the space you need, and demonstrate your ability." Hikari, a boy with messy gray hair and sharp gray eyes, stepped forward confidently. The other students murmured among themselves, curious about the abilities of the one who had finished the exam the fastest. Fulan''s dark eyes narrowed as he watched, his mind already calculating. *''What kind of ability does he hide...?''* The training had begun, and with it, the first steps toward uncovering the potential within each student. The path ahead was long, but for Fulan, every second counted. The fate of the kingdom¡ªand his clan¡ªdepended on it. ------ You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 28: The Gray Mist and the Crystal Legacy **Chapter 28: The Gray Mist and the Crystal Legacy** Hikari Noya, a young man seemingly the same age as Fulan, between seventeen and nineteen, stepped forward. His messy, dark gray hair matched his equally gray eyes, and he wore the standard black-and-white uniform of Ragandarok Academy. His build was average¡ªneither too thin nor muscular, just ordinary. He walked about five meters away from the group, his footsteps echoing confidently on the earthy training ground. With a deep breath, he inhaled sharply, his lips curling into a self-assured smile. Then, he unleashed his ability. **[Molecular Conversion ~ Gray Mist Veil!]** A thick, dark gray mist erupted from Hikari''s mouth, spreading rapidly and enveloping the students and Instructor Makoto. The fog was dense, obscuring vision completely. The students, though calm, were visibly disoriented, their figures barely visible through the haze. Hikari stood with a proud smile, clearly expecting praise for his display. However, Makoto''s voice cut through the mist, calm and analytical. "You can convert the Menma particles you absorb with the air in your lungs into a dense mist. It''s similar to how fireball users or other offensive-type Menma abilities work. Your Menma is clearly offensive in nature." Hikari''s confidence seemed to grow as he ran a hand through his hair, but Makoto''s next words shattered his pride. "However, at your current skill level, you''re still very weak." Hikari''s eyebrows twitched, his smile faltering as Makoto continued. "The problem is, you can''t defeat someone with an offensive Menma type like yours, or even a defensive type. For example, if you release a mist attack, you don''t expect it to break through a stone wall, do you? Or if your mist were to clash with a water-based attack, both being offensive types, do you really think mist would overpower water?" Hikari''s eyes widened as Makoto''s critique continued. The instructor, unfazed by the mist, scribbled notes in his small notebook, his voice steady. "Your skill is only good for retreating, creating distractions, or disorienting your opponent. You probably passed the exam because the other students couldn''t see you in this mist. You exploited their carelessness and stole their points. You might have eliminated people far stronger than you with this cunning tactic." Hikari''s face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. He muttered under his breath, "That''s not¡­" but Makoto wasn''t finished. "Well, let''s see if you can even dispel this mist yourself." Silence followed. Hikari couldn''t remove the mist, and Makoto sighed, rubbing his gray hair with his pen. "Alright, you can return to your spot. We''ll move on to the next student once the mist clears." As Hikari reluctantly stepped back, a girl with silky pink hair tied into a high ponytail and a stylish red headband stepped forward. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with energy, and her fair skin seemed to glow even in the dim light. She raised her right hand and snapped her fingers, her voice cheerful and mocking. "So, the so-called top candidate who passed the exam first did it by being sneaky? How pitiful!" The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. **[Menma Manipulation ~ Gentle Breeze!]** A swirling, spiral wind erupted around the students, lifting their hair and clothes gently. The wind dispersed the dark gray mist in moments, leaving the training ground clear once more. The pink-haired girl stood confidently, her radiant smile lighting up the area. "I''m Mizayani Kyoka, third in the ranking of those who passed the exam the fastest. Your name''s Hikari, right? Let me be blunt¡ªI don''t think you deserve a seat among us." She pointed at him, her tone sharp. "From what I remember, there was a boy who moved like blue lightning during the exam. In my opinion, he deserves your spot more than you do." Hikari remained silent for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. Even Makoto didn''t intervene, curious to see how Hikari would handle the criticism¡ªa necessary trait for any Knight. Finally, Hikari exhaled and spoke with quiet determination. "I don''t care if it was sneaky or not. There was no other way for me to compete. That''s why I''m proud I succeeded, even if others are more talented than me." Makoto nodded slightly, seemingly satisfied with Hikari''s response. He then turned to Kyoka, his tone calm but probing. "Mizayani Kyoka, you can manipulate the Menma particles in the air to create wind currents. This ability has great potential for development and can produce a variety of attacks." Kyoka''s smile widened at the praise, but Makoto''s next question caught her off guard. "Let''s start with this: Can you float or fly?" Kyoka''s smile faltered, her blue eyes widening in confusion. "Huh?! How am I supposed to do something impossible like that?" Makoto began writing in his notebook, his voice matter-of-fact. "That means your control over your ability is still weak, just like Hikari''s. Next is¡­" He paused, his gaze shifting to Lazaria. "Lazaria Masmogar." The moment the name left his lips, the students erupted into murmurs of surprise. The Masmogar name was legendary¡ªit belonged to one of the current Crystal Knights, the pinnacle of strength in the kingdom. All eyes turned to Lazaria, who stepped forward with a composed expression, her golden hair shimmering in the sunlight and her green eyes focused. "Masmogar?!" "Isn''t that the name of the newest Crystal Knight?" "Wait, is she her younger sister?!" "Seriously?!" "Does that mean she has the same talent as her older sister?" Lazaria ignored the whispers, her steps steady as she approached the center of the training ground. Fulan''s dark eyes narrowed as he watched her, his mind racing. *''Lazaria is the younger sister of a Crystal Knight? This changes everything. If she knows her sister well, she might have information about the strength of the Crystal Knights. I can use that to gauge the level of threat I''ll face¡­''* Fayrouz, standing nearby, was equally stunned. She muttered under her breath, "Lazaria, you¡­" The revelation had sent shockwaves through the group, and the atmosphere grew tense. Lazaria, the younger sister of a Crystal Knight, stood at the center of attention, her presence now carrying a weight that no one could ignore. . . You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 29: The Weight of Legacy and the Birth of New Rivalries **Chapter 29: The Weight of Legacy and the Birth of New Rivalries** The overcast sky loomed above Ragandarok Academy, its gray clouds swallowing the sunlight that had once bathed the training grounds. A cool breeze swept across the field, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and the distant rustle of leaves. The atmosphere was heavy, not just with the weather, but with the weight of expectations and the unspoken tension among the students. The training grounds, once a place of anticipation, now felt like a stage where destinies would be tested and revealed. Lazaria Masmogar stood apart from the group, her golden hair catching the faint light that filtered through the clouds. Her green eyes were focused, her expression calm but resolute. The whispers and murmurs about her family name had subsided, thanks to Instructor Makoto''s stern reminder that the path to becoming a Crystal Knight was not about innate talent alone but about relentless effort and self-improvement. Yet, the pressure of her legacy lingered, a shadow that she could not escape. Makoto, his gray hair slightly tousled by the wind, addressed the students with his usual calm demeanor. "Stay focused. The Crystal Knights weren''t born with overwhelming power. They had rare talents, just like some of you, but they forged themselves into something greater through understanding, training, and facing stronger opponents. If you think talent alone is what made them who they are, then you don''t deserve to be here. You, too, can reach their level if you push beyond the limits of your thinking before the limits of your strength." His words brought a sense of clarity to the students, grounding them in the reality of their journey. Lazaria, now free from the weight of their stares, took a deep breath and stepped forward. She knelt on the ground, her hands pressing into the soft earth. Closing her eyes, she sought the inner peace she needed to activate her ability. The world around her faded as she focused, her mind drifting to memories she had long tried to bury. --- *Years ago, in a small schoolyard in the common district of Saita Kingdom...* The yard was alive with the laughter and shouts of children during recess. Among them was an eight-year-old Lazaria, her long golden hair tied back, her smile bright as she approached a group of girls. "Can I play with you?" she asked, her voice hopeful. The girls exchanged glances before one of them, wearing glasses, spoke up. "You''re Lazaria, right? From our class? Sure, you can play with us¡ªif you show us your ability." Lazaria''s cheeks flushed with excitement. She picked up a small rock from the ground and held it out. "This is my ability," she said, her voice tinged with pride. In an instant, the rock transformed into a bundle of golden hair, identical to her own. She smiled, holding the strands in her palm, but her joy was short-lived. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Turning a rock into golden hair? What''s the point of that?" one of the girls sneered. "We don''t want someone weak like you on our team," another added. "If you like hair so much, maybe you should become a hairdresser or something," the third girl said, turning away. "Let''s go, girls. Having her with us will just make us lose." Lazaria''s smile faded as the girls walked away, their laughter echoing in her ears. She clenched the strands of hair in her hand, her heart heavy with disappointment. "But my sister said it''s an amazing ability," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. "She said I could surpass her¡­" For years, Lazaria struggled to make friends. In a world where children admired flashy and exciting abilities, hers seemed mundane, even useless. She buried herself in books, becoming the top student in her class, but the loneliness never left her. The comparisons to her older sister, Lara, who had become a Crystal Knight at the age of 20, only grew louder. The whispers of the neighbors, the constant reminders of her sister''s achievements¡ªit all weighed heavily on her. --- *Back to the present...* Lazaria opened her eyes, the memories fading as she exhaled slowly. The cool breeze brushed against her face, and she felt a renewed sense of determination. *''I''m not doing this to please anyone. I''m doing this for myself. I admit my motivation might be weaker than the others here, but I want to stand on equal footing with my sister. I want my parents to be proud of me, just as they are of her. But¡­ studying was never boring. The age of technology, the era of progress, the days before the virus¡ªI believe in them. I know they''re not just myths. That''s why I want to reach a position where I can uncover the truth of this world. I won''t settle for being less than a Crystal Knight!''* [Molecular Conversion ~ Ocean of Hair!] In an instant, the entire circular training ground, spanning over a hundred meters, transformed into a sea of golden hair. The students gasped, their footing suddenly unstable as the ground beneath them seemed to dissolve. They teetered on the edge of falling into the vast, shimmering ocean of hair, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief. Before anyone could plunge into the hair, a boy with white hair clenched his right fist and punched the air beneath him. A transparent, glass-like surface formed, solidifying beneath their feet. The students found themselves standing on what felt like a giant glass plate, the ocean of hair now visible beneath them, its golden strands undulating like waves. The white-haired boy smirked, his gray eyes glowing faintly as he addressed Lazaria. "Easy there, girl. What if this ''ocean'' of yours was over 40 meters deep? Were you trying to drown us in your hair or something?" His confident, almost arrogant demeanor marked him as a new and potentially troublesome presence. His stance, his tone, and the look in his eyes all hinted at someone who thrived on attention and challenge. --------- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 30: The Glass Floor and the Invisible Girl **Chapter 30: The Glass Floor and the Invisible Girl** The training grounds of Ragandarok Academy had transformed into a surreal landscape. Lazaria''s ability had turned the entire circular arena into a vast ocean of golden hair, its shimmering strands undulating like waves. The students stood in stunned silence, their feet seemingly suspended above the hair-filled abyss. Just as they began to lose their balance, a boy with white hair and gray eyes stepped forward, his movements swift and precise. With a confident smirk, he punched the air beneath him, and a transparent, glass-like surface solidified under their feet. The sudden shift left the students bewildered. Some of them looked down, their eyes wide with shock. "Huh?" "Wait, are we standing on air??" "I feel like there''s solid ground beneath me, even though I can''t see it¡­" A few students wobbled, barely able to keep their footing as they stared into the seemingly bottomless sea of hair below. Instructor Makoto, however, remained calm. He knelt down and tapped the glass-like surface with his knuckles, as if knocking on a door, and murmured softly, "It''s rare to see such a useful ability¡­" The white-haired boy, clearly pleased with himself, grinned arrogantly as he looked around at the astonished faces of his peers. "It''s impossible for your feeble minds to comprehend what just happened. You''d all be falling into that abyss if it weren''t for me. That means you owe me, of course." His tone and demeanor quickly earned him a place in the "people I don''t want to talk to" category for most of the students. Despite the chaos, Makoto remained composed. He flipped through the pages of his notebook and addressed Lazaria. "Lazaria, can you turn the hair back into solid ground?" Lazaria shook her head, her voice calm but firm. "No, I can''t reverse my ability." Makoto sighed, running his fingers through his gray hair. "The maintenance team will have to handle the damage to the training grounds. They''re the elite, after all." He then turned his attention to the white-haired boy. "Well, let''s see¡­ Asahi Leorin, the troublemaker who was almost expelled before the entrance exam even began¡­" The students'' eyes shifted to Asahi, his white hair and gray eyes giving him an almost ethereal appearance. His smug grin widened as he shoved his hands into his pockets, his teeth gleaming as he spoke. "I was just defending my personal freedom. It''s your fault for assuming I wanted a roommate. I need a room to myself¡ªthat''s my only condition. You should be proud that someone as talented as me is studying in this mediocre place. You get direct support from the King, right? That means you''re rich. Give us some grants or something." A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Makoto ignored Asahi''s brash tone and began jotting down notes. "That explains why you targeted your roommate first during the exam. Eliminating him meant you''d get the room to yourself." The other students glanced at Asahi with a mix of disdain and annoyance. Fulan, however, averted his gaze, his black eyes fixed on the ground. He, too, had eliminated his roommate during the exam, and the reminder made him uneasy. Makoto continued, his voice steady. "Talent and a solid understanding of your ability¡­ So far, you''re the most promising among these students. This glass-like floor can support all of us, and that''s not something you can achieve with talent alone. It''s clear you''ve spent a lot of time refining your ability. Good. I''ll give you a test that matches your experience. I want you to keep us standing on this glass floor until I''ve finished evaluating the other students. Can you handle that?" A bead of sweat slid down Asahi''s temple, and his confident smirk wavered for a moment. "O-of course. This is easy¡­" With that, Makoto turned his attention to a girl with dark brown hair and matching eyes. "Mizuhara Ryusuke, it''s your turn." The girl, who had remained silent and almost invisible throughout the entire session, stepped forward. Her presence had been so faint that some of the students were seeing her face for the first time. She was the fifth student to demonstrate her ability out of the ten in the class. Mizuhara walked slowly toward Makoto, her movements deliberate. The students watched intently, their feet still planted on the glass-like surface. Then, without warning, her brown hair, clothes, and body began to fade from view until she completely disappeared. The ability was self-explanatory: Mizuhara could turn herself invisible. The students gasped, their whispers filling the air. "I can''t see her¡­" "Where did she go?" "Is she still there?" While the others were captivated by Mizuhara''s ability, Fulan and Fayrouz exchanged a knowing glance. In this world, it was rare for two unrelated individuals to possess the same ability. This realization sparked a suspicion in both of them. Fayrouz''s deep blue eyes reflected a mix of curiosity and concern, while Fulan''s black eyes remained unreadable, though the same thought crossed his mind. The girl named Mizuhara had to be related to the bandits Fayrouz and Fulan had fought on their way to the Saita Kingdom. Fayrouz felt a sense of responsibility, knowing she needed to keep an eye on Mizuhara. As for Fulan, he was already well aware of his own role as the true bastard of the story. He had no room to judge Mizuhara, no matter what her motives were. --- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon. Chapter 31: The Brothers and the Blue Scarf Chapter 31: The Brothers and the Blue Scarf The Knights'' Arena was unlike any other training ground. A vast, undulating mass of golden-blond hair spread beneath the students'' feet, resembling an ocean frozen mid-wave. What kept them from plummeting into its depths was a semi-transparent glass-like floor, shimmering with an almost ethereal glow. It was a masterpiece conjured by Asahi, the white-haired student whose abilities allowed such surreal landscapes to exist. Above them, thick storm clouds churned in the sky, their dark hues shifting restlessly as if whispering among themselves. The air carried the scent of distant rain, a sharp contrast to the crispness of the cool breeze sweeping through the open space. The towering oak trees encircling the arena swayed slightly, their leaves rustling in hushed tones, adding to the tension brewing among the students. Among the gathered students stood Shinso, a tall, nearly bald young man who bore the disciplined aura of a former soldier. Clad in the academy''s black-and-white embroidered uniform, he exuded a quiet intensity. The Minma genes pass from parents to children in the same way that hereditary traits do¡ªeye color, hair color, facial structure, even inherited diseases. I am nothing without my younger brother, and he is nothing without me. But together¡­ we are the strongest. As Shinso mulled over these thoughts, the teacher, Makoto, lifted his head after jotting down notes in his leather-bound journal. His sharp green eyes, framed by dark gray hair that was slightly unkempt, scanned the arena. His expression remained composed, revealing little of his thoughts as he turned his attention to the next student. Somewhere within the crowd stood Mizuhara Ryosuke, a brown-haired girl with matching dark brown eyes. There was little reason to describe her appearance, for she was invisible at that very moment. A few students weren''t surprised by her ability¡ªafter all, invisibility wasn''t the most practical skill in combat. But they knew it had many other advantages. Makoto, unaware of her exact location, spoke in a steady voice, "Alright, how long can you remain unseen?" Silence. The answer didn''t come immediately. The delay stretched long enough to make the other students glance around in search of her¡ªexcept for one. Fayrouz, with her sapphire-blue eyes, gazed steadily to her left. Exactly five seconds later, Mizuhara''s form shimmered into existence right beside Fayrouz. Her face held a calm expression as she remarked, "I''m surprised. These sapphire-like eyes¡­ it''s as if they were tracking me the whole time. That wasn''t a coincidence, was it?" To the rest of the students and the teacher, Mizuhara had appeared out of nowhere. But for Fayrouz, she had never been hidden. That was why she answered, her voice composed, "Unfortunate for you, there are some people in this world for whom invisibility is useless. And I have no reason to explain why." Mizuhara remained silent for a moment, her gaze locked onto Fayrouz''s, before she eventually turned and walked toward the back of the crowd. "Teacher, answering that question would only expose my weakness. I''d rather avoid that." Makoto, not the type to pry into personal secrets, simply flipped to the next page of his notebook. "Next, Shinso Minaho." At the sound of his name, Shinso stepped forward¡ªbut he wasn''t alone. Beside him walked another young man, eerily similar in appearance yet younger. His nearly bald head matched Shinso''s, as did the sharp angles of his face. But the differences were there¡ªsubtle variations in their features, and most notably, their deep yellow eyes. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Makoto''s green eyes studied the younger one before he asked, "You''re Yuta Minaho, correct? The younger brother. I''d like to see your older brother''s ability first¡ªyour turn will come after." Shinso, now twenty-three, raised a hand in a slow, deliberate gesture. "We can''t use our ability unless we''re together." Makoto lifted an eyebrow, his usually impassive face showing a flicker of intrigue. His graying hair, slightly tousled, framed his features in a way that made him appear both wise and calculating. Shinso continued, "Before my brother was born, I was considered ''ability-less.'' A rare phenomenon, and one that made me feel incomplete. But when Yuta came into this world¡­ something happened. Something so unprecedented that even the doctors were left speechless." Makoto didn''t fully understand what he was hearing, but he wasn''t one to overreact. He remained calm, about to grant them permission to demonstrate. However, before he could, the younger brother, Yuta, added, "There''s one more thing. It would be best if we had an opponent. It doesn''t need to be a real fight¡ªjust a demonstration." A smirk spread across Shinso''s face. "What an excellent idea, Yuta! Watching students show off their abilities without a battle has been painfully boring. A proper fight will let me unleash my full power." Makoto flipped through his notes, his voice even as he said, "The only ones left are Fulan Nanimo and Fayrouz¡­ Hmm, Fayrouz is listed without a surname. In any case, are you suggesting I make this a two-on-two match? Today''s goal is to observe abilities, not start an actual training session." The atmosphere in the arena shifted. A hushed excitement ran through the students. The storm clouds overhead thickened, casting a dim, silver light over the scene. A cool breeze swept across the arena, carrying the scent of damp earth and oak leaves. The towering oak trees surrounding them whispered as their branches swayed. The semi-glass floor beneath them, though solid, carried a faint echo with every step taken upon it. From within the crowd, Fulan stepped forward. His movements were measured, his eyes closed as if deep in thought. A subtle smile curved his lips, a sign of quiet satisfaction. "I don''t know why I always end up in team fights with you." Five meters away, Fayrouz strode forward with steady, confident steps, mirroring his expression with her own playful smirk. But unlike him, her striking blue eyes had begun to glow¡ªa light, almost ethereal blue, reminiscent of sunlight reflecting on the ocean''s surface. "I could say the same. Perhaps it''s a curse. One that started the moment we boarded that old, rickety carriage together." In one fluid motion, Fayrouz reached into her pocket and retrieved a glowing blue ring. As she activated it, the ring expanded into a radiant scarf. Initially luminous, it wrapped around her neck, shifting in texture and hue until it settled into a deep, elegant blue. The contrast against her flowing black hair, streaked with dark blue strands, was breathtaking. Her pale skin only enhanced the striking image. Standing side by side, Fayrouz and Fulan faced their opponents. Between them, Makoto remained, serving as the only barrier before the battle. The students murmured among themselves. "Do they know each other?" Among them, Lazaria, with her vibrant green eyes and soft blonde curls, smiled gently as she observed. Oh, you two really do look good together. Shinso, watching the pair, grinned and turned to Yuta. "Looks like this will be more than just a demonstration. Are you ready?" Yuta, ever the serious one, nodded. "Even if I know the chances of us losing are zero, I will treat them as if they have the power to win." On the other side, Fayrouz placed a hand on her scarf, a silent signal that she was prepared. Fulan glanced at her. "I didn''t see you use that in the exam." "It wasn''t a battlefield fit for it." Her answer was cool, focused. Yet one student had no interest in watching this match¡ªAsahi Leorin, the white-haired boy with gray eyes. Sweat trickled down his temple as he thought, Isn''t she the one who caused that earthquake during the exam? Does Makoto really expect me to maintain this glass floor during their fight? He''s got to be kidding! Makoto, slipping his notebook into his pocket, took a few steps back. "You have one minute. After that, I will end the fight." One minute was more than enough. The academy''s legendary battles were only beginning. But¡­ wasn''t there supposed to be a tenth seat? Chapter 32; Why dont you calm down a little? Chapter 32; Why don''t you calm down a little? The brothers, Shinsu and Yuta, stood with unwavering confidence, facing their opponents, Fayrouz and Fulan. A serious expression filled the faces of everyone present, including their instructor, Makoto. One minute. That was all the time the match would last, yet everyone knew it was more than enough to determine the winner. Instructor Makoto, with his gray hair and piercing green eyes, slowly raised his arm before speaking in a calm tone: "Ability Showcase, first and final round¡ªbegins now!" The moment those words left his mouth, Shinsu, the elder brother, launched himself toward Fayrouz and Fulan without hesitation. His dark yellow eyes had already begun to glow, a clear sign that he was about to activate his ability. Unlike him, Yuta, the younger brother, remained still, observing the situation. This prompted Fulan to comment, as a white aura of sound enveloped his skin: "A direct attack? The older brother seems stronger, judging by his build, but this is reckless." Fayrouz, standing beside him, transformed her flexible blue scarf into a solid, circular shield, her voice calm as she remarked: "You''re rather relaxed for someone about to be attacked." She said this because Shinsu was only two meters away from Fulan, clearly targeting him instead of her. As Shinsu''s fist closed in on Fulan''s face, the latter, with an eerily composed expression, murmured: "Too slow..." Fuuuush!! With movements as swift as sound itself, Fulan took two steps to the right, narrowly avoiding the strike at the last moment. His reaction was excellent¡ªundeniably fast. But then¡­ Whooosh!! In an instant, the brothers switched places in a seamless, twin teleportation. Fulan''s black eyes widened in shock. Instead of Shinsu, it was now Yuta standing before him. Unlike his older brother, Yuta was incredibly agile. He swiftly grabbed Fulan''s arm, exploiting the fact that Fulan had only moved two steps. If Fulan had retreated three meters instead, he might have escaped. Despite the setback, Fulan reacted well. He adjusted his footing and aimed a rapid kick at Yuta''s chin at the speed of sound. But again... Whooosh!! The brothers switched places once more, and this time, the one holding Fulan''s arm was none other than Shinsu¡ªthe stronger, bulkier of the two. Bash!! Shinsu used his arm to block Fulan''s kick, his defense solid. The reason Shinsu managed to intercept it was simple¡ªhe had been observing from the back, analyzing the fight. Without a moment''s pause, he yanked Fulan toward him and¡ª Thump!! A brutal headbutt. The sound of impact resonated through the air, sharp and crushing. Shinsu had chosen his head over his hands because one of his arms was busy restraining Fulan, and the other was slightly injured from blocking the high-speed kick. Fulan, dazed, stared at the sky for at least two seconds. His black hair swayed with the aftershock of the attack, his senses reeling. His breathing grew heavy, and for a moment, his body refused to obey him. Shinsu''s voice broke through the haze: "We watched your fight against the Green Twins. That girl isn''t a threat to us in this battle. The real problem is you. But now¡­ you can''t win." Whooosh!! The brothers switched places again, and Yuta returned to Fulan, unleashing a rapid flurry of punches to his stomach. Fulan, still dizzy from the headbutt, struggled to react. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. The punches landed with force, each blow reverberating through his body. Yuta''s golden eyes remained sharp and focused, his relentless assault intended to knock Fulan unconscious. The students watching were stunned, their expressions a mix of awe and realization. The brothers'' ability was simple¡ªswitching places. A seemingly useless power. But they had perfected it, turning a weak ability into an overwhelming strategy that could even counter Fulan''s speed. Fayrouz, witnessing Fulan being struck repeatedly, remained calm. She knew he didn''t need saving, but her thoughts lingered on the older brother standing at a distance: If their ability is limited to switching places, then it''s practically useless. But they''ve mastered it to such an extent that they''ve turned it into a technique that can rival Fulan''s speed. I must admit, this is the first time I''ve seen him struggle. Well then¡­ I should start moving too. She swiftly transformed her shield back into a solid blue sword and dashed toward Shinsu. It was the smartest move she could make. The brothers'' strategy was straightforward¡ªone fought while the other observed. When the one fighting was in danger, they switched places, allowing the observer to take over with full awareness of the battlefield. It was a flawless combination of a player and a spectator¡ªwhere the one watching always saw opportunities the fighter couldn''t. A simple concept, yet incredibly difficult to execute. And the students understood this. Respect for the brothers was evident in their eyes. Shinsu, noticing Fayrouz charging at him, smirked. "Oh, come on now. You don''t actually think you can win in close combat, do you?" Fayrouz didn''t hesitate. She slashed at him with her sword, but Shinsu dodged effortlessly. "I still remember what you did at the entrance exam," he said while avoiding another strike. "But someone born gifted like you can never surpass someone like me in a real fight. Talent breeds laziness. Hard work breeds strength!" He then launched a barrage of punches at Fayrouz. She barely managed to evade, her black hair flowing with each movement, her blue eyes sharp with focus. But dodging was becoming harder. Realizing this, she transformed her sword back into a shield, shifting to defense. Shinsu grinned, his fists relentlessly hammering against the solid blue shield. What''s with this girl? Her ability is strange¡­ I don''t know why, but I get the feeling she''s holding back. No, that must be my imagination. Meanwhile, Fulan had taken nine direct hits to his stomach. Yuta, preparing the tenth punch, declared: "Fulan Nanimo, you''ve lost¡ªbecause we understand our opponents before the battle begins!" His fist shot forward at high speed¡ª But¡ª Fulan caught Yuta''s wrist before the punch could land. A drop of sweat slid down his face as he spoke, irritation clear in his tone: "Understanding your opponent before fighting? Too bad¡­ that''s not how the law of the jungle works." The white aura around him intensified, his black hair whipping wildly as an overwhelming force surged from within. Then¡ª Thwack!! With a single upward kick to Yuta''s chin, he sent the younger brother flying. The sheer force of the strike tore through the air, producing a deafening sound. Shinsu, witnessing this, abandoned his fight with Fayrouz, his eyes flaring with fury. Whoooosh!! He used their ability, switching places with Yuta, intent on taking Fulan head-on. But in that moment¡ª The aura around Fulan was different. It wasn''t just battle instinct. It was predatory intent. Like a wild beast about to devour its prey. The students felt it¡ªthe chilling sensation running down their spines. It was primal, raw. Fayrouz''s blue eyes flickered. Lazaria, with her golden hair and green eyes, stiffened. And then¡ª Mizayani Kyoka moved. Her pink hair, tied in a high ponytail, swayed as she stepped forward, wind swirling around her hands. The crimson headband she wore trembled against the gusts as she shouted: "Everyone, back away!" The winds howled, shaking the students'' clothes and hair. But¡ª Instructor Makoto appeared before her, halting her advance. Her glowing blue eyes widened as she protested: "Sensei! They''re in danger!" Makoto''s own green eyes gleamed as his gray hair shifted in the breeze. Addressing Fulan''s raging presence, he spoke in a firm voice: "These Menma particles don''t belong to a human. Why don''t you calm down a little?" [Gravity ~ Go Down!] Whoooosh!! A deep, oppressive force suddenly filled the air. It pressed down like an invisible weight, making the ground groan under the strain. A translucent green wave, pulsing with raw power, descended upon Fulan. The moment it touched him, everything changed. His body, which had always been light, swift, and untouchable, felt as if it had been turned to stone. His knees buckled under the sheer weight pressing down on him, and before he could stop it¡ª Thud! One knee slammed against the ground. His breath hitched. His vision swam. His muscles trembled under an unbearable pressure that no one else seemed to feel. He clenched his teeth, trying to fight back, but even keeping one eye open became a struggle. The other had already shut instinctively, as if trying to block out the crushing force. Beneath him¡ª Crack! The semi-glasslike ground splintered, thin fractures creeping outward from where his knee had struck. It wasn''t just his body suffering under the weight¡ªeverything around him seemed to be breaking under the force. The once-roaring winds from Mizayani Kyoka''s ability faded. Makoto, standing calmly amidst the chaos, watched Fulan struggle before speaking, his voice even but carrying a weight of its own: "Faris of the Crystal, Mahito Junior." Fulan barely managed to lift his head. His gaze, unfocused and heavy-lidded, locked onto Makoto with difficulty. His mind was racing, grasping at the words. Mahito Junior again? Who cares about that? What is this ability? His body, which had always been an extension of his will¡ªfast, precise, lethal¡ªfelt foreign to him now. Like a heavy, immovable mass. Makoto took a step forward, his footsteps deliberate, echoing through the silent battlefield. "He once wrote about encountering a rare breed of tiger¡ªwhite fur, black stripes, piercing blue eyes. He claimed it could move at the speed of sound, enveloped in a white aura." Each word landed with weight, much like the force keeping Fulan down. "Animal abilities do not pass identically to humans. Even if traits are inherited, powers never manifest in the same way." Another step. "That means your power doesn''t resemble the White Tiger''s." A pause. "It is identical." Fulan''s mind sharpened despite the pressure. Makoto''s green eyes bore into him, unreadable. "Now, putting the pieces together¡­" His voice remained calm, but there was something pointed beneath it. "Fulan Nanimo¡ªwhy do you have this power?" --- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon Chapter 33 ~ Zero Gravity! Chapter 33 ~ Zero Gravity! Ragandarok Academy ¨C Knights'' Arena ¨C Above the Semi-Glasslike Ground "Fulan Nanimo, why do you have the White Tiger''s ability?" That was the question Makoto asked, his green eyes glowing intensely as he observed Fulan, who was struggling under the immense pressure of gravity. His body refused to move, no matter how much he resisted. Fayrouz, Shinsu, and Yuta¡ªwho was pressing his elbow against the ground in an attempt to stand after being knocked down by Fulan''s previous kick¡ªwere all left in confusion. None of them understood what was happening, but one thing was certain: the fight would not continue, not after the instructor had stepped in. The rest of the students remained silent, merely watching. None of them knew much about Fulan. Among them was Lazaria, who also refused to say a word in his defense. She simply didn''t know what to say¡ªafter all, she had no understanding of Fulan''s ability herself. But there was one undeniable truth. The killing intent that had surged moments ago had come from Fulan. At that moment, he realized that the situation might not end in his favor. He needed a way out¡ªfast. There''s one key point I need to focus on. Makoto has never seen the White Tiger''s ability firsthand¡ªhe''s only read about it. That means there''s a strong chance I can convince him that this is my true power somehow. But¡­ some people have already seen me use Akira''s ability, the one that lets me move at lightning speed. If I lie now, it could backfire. The most important thing here is gaining trust. And among all the people I need to convince¡ªhe is the most crucial. Fulan had no intention of revealing his true ability this early, but Makoto had cornered him into a situation where he had no choice. Under the crushing weight of gravity, he finally spoke, his voice laced with forced amusement: "Oh, come on now. I thought the fight was supposed to last a full minute, yet you interfered in the first twenty seconds¡ªright when it was getting fun." A faint smile played on his lips, but it was clear it wouldn''t last. The sheer force pressing down on him made it look fragile, as if it could shatter at any moment. A false grin that dared to defy pain. But that wasn''t the answer Makoto wanted to hear. The instructor''s expression remained unreadable as he increased the gravity''s intensity. "Impressive that you can still dodge my question in your current state..." Crack!! The fractures in the semi-glasslike ground spread, becoming longer and deeper. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. That was when Lioren Asahi, the white-haired student, spoke up: "Instructor, this is more than the ground can handle. That kid is going to fall soon. There''s nothing I can do about it." Makoto''s green eyes flickered toward the arrogant Asahi, who, for the first time, admitted to the limits of his ability. The ground beneath them¡ªhis creation¡ªwas at its breaking point. At that moment, Fulan managed to move his hand with great effort, placing it on his knee as he exhaled sharply. "I don''t understand. Is it wrong for a person to have a talent that history and fantasy books haven''t recorded, Instructor?" His features hardened, reflecting the depth of his seriousness. Fulan attempted to rise, challenging the overwhelming force weighing him down. But no matter how much he tried, his body refused to budge. Yet, his words had an entirely different effect. Makoto''s glowing green eyes wavered. It was as if he had heard those exact words somewhere before. For a moment, it seemed as though Makoto was about to release his ability. But before he could, Fayrouz had already placed her hand firmly on the glasslike ground. Her blue eyes began to glow as she declared: "You''re right, Fulan. A wild beast''s ability? So what? I have never seen Fulan use his power for anything against logic or law. If Fulan is about to fall into the Abyss of Hair¡ªthen we will all fall together!" [Atomic Manipulation ~ Molecular Disassembly!] The glasslike ground began to dissolve, breaking apart into air particles as if it had never existed. This meant only one thing¡ªeveryone was about to fall. Or so they thought... [Zero Gravity] Instead of plummeting into the Abyss of Hair below, the students found themselves suspended in midair, weightless. Two shocks hit them in rapid succession¡ªfirst, the terrifying sensation of freefall, and then, in less than a second, the complete loss of weight, leaving them floating in the air. Some students managed to remain calm, adjusting naturally to the new state. Others, however, struggled, their bodies flipping upside down as they failed to maintain their balance. "W-What just happened? Who used this skill?" "We''ve already seen everyone''s abilities¡ªso who could have done this?" As the students whispered among themselves, trying to unravel the mystery, a hand lightly tapped Fulan''s shoulder. He turned¡ª And there stood Instructor Makoto, his green eyes glowing, a clear sign that he was still using his power. His voice was calm as he spoke: "A talent not recorded in history¡­ I wonder where I''ve heard that phrase before." Fulan didn''t reply. Because, in truth, those words weren''t his. They belonged to the man who had trained him, the man who had forged him into the fighter he had become. Makoto then raised his voice, addressing all the students floating in the air: "Stop questioning things. This is my ability. Hold hands with one another¡ªMizayani, use the wind to carry us to the edge of the arena." Mizayani Kyoka, a girl with pink hair tied in a high ponytail and striking blue eyes, adjusted the crimson headband resting elegantly on her head. Upon hearing Makoto''s instructions, a confident smile spread across her face. Her excitement was evident as she responded: "You want me to push them up? That''s easy compared to asking me to fly on my own!" The students quickly reached for one another, forming a chain as Makoto had ordered. It was a scene that symbolized trust¡ªevery student linking hands, relying on one another to make it back safely. Fayrouz extended her hand toward Fulan, who was positioned at the very end of the line. When he looked up at her, he was met with a warm, reassuring smile. "Fulan, if you''re going to fall into a pit, then I''ll fall with you! No¡ªmore than that, I''ll make sure everyone around us falls too, so that no one dares to look down on us!" Her words were encouraging, filled with warmth and conviction. Yet, to Fulan, they cut through him like a blade to the heart. I''m the villain. The traitor. The assassin. The enemy. Why¡­ why am I receiving this kind of support from her? That thought tormented him. How could she say such things when she knew nothing about his past? When she didn''t truly know him? But what Fulan failed to realize¡­ Was that he knew nothing about Fayrouz''s past either. ---- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon Chapter 34 ~ The tenth seat. Chapter 34 ~ The tenth seat. Ragandarok Academy ¨C Headmaster¡¯s Office. The headmaster, a man with light brown hair and eyes of the same shade, sat at his desk, deeply engrossed in writing and planning for the annual Talent Festival. It was a relatively new event in the Kingdom of Saita, and this year would mark its second edition. All he needed was peace and quiet¡ªjust enough time to come up with fresh ideas that hadn¡¯t been used in last year¡¯s festival. But then¡ª Knock, knock! Two knocks echoed through the silent office, shattering the tranquility that had filled the room. The headmaster sighed, visibly annoyed as he slowly lifted his gaze from the planning papers and turned toward the wooden door. "Come in." The door handle twisted slowly. Then, with careful, deliberate movements, the visitor pushed the door open and stepped inside. The headmaster¡¯s view cleared, revealing a young man dressed in the academy¡¯s uniform, adorned with elegant black and white patterns. His hair was an unusual mix¡ªsome strands were a deep, dark gray, while others were a much lighter shade of the same color. His eyes carried the same contrast¡ªhis right eye was dark gray, while his left eye was light gray. His skin was pale, his height average, and his physique was neither too slim nor too muscular¡ªjust the natural build of an eighteen or nineteen-year-old. But the most peculiar detail about him was the long samurai sword strapped to his waist. Its scabbard was decorated with alternating shades of dark and light gray, complementing both his hair and eyes. A single loose strand of hair curved backward, swaying gently as he moved. The sword¡¯s hilt was pure black, adding to its elegant, mysterious aura. Despite the oddity of the scene, the headmaster remained composed. Without lifting his head fully, he glanced down at his papers once more and said in a calm voice: "What is it? Have you come to assassinate me or something? Unfortunately, I¡¯m busy right now. You can try again later." A heavy silence followed his words. It was the kind of silence that made the air feel tense, as if the situation had taken a serious turn. The headmaster, sensing the shift, narrowed his eyes slightly. He¡¯s not saying anything. Does that mean he really has bad intentions¡­? But then¡ª "A¡ªApologies!" The young man''s voice rang out, unexpectedly loud and flustered. His expression twisted with nervousness as he hurriedly added: "Teacher said to follow him to Knights¡¯ Arena, but I¡ªI got lost. Sorry! I didn¡¯t know this was¡­ headmaster office. I just want to ask¡­ for directions to arena!" His English wasn¡¯t smooth¡ªit was clear that it wasn¡¯t his native language. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. The words felt slightly disjointed, lacking the natural flow that the other students had. It was simple, understandable, but noticeably different. In truth, every door in the academy had a plaque with numbers and labels indicating the room¡¯s function. The headmaster¡¯s office had a very clear sign that read: ¡°Headmaster¡¯s Office¡±. And yet, this young man had no idea where he was. That could only mean one thing¡ªhe didn¡¯t understand the language well enough to read it. The headmaster slowly raised his head, his expression shifting into a look of quiet curiosity. "You¡¯re in the Knights¡¯ Division? Speaking of which¡­ There was an idiot who submitted a form with a doodled face and some random scribbles¡ª" He paused, rummaging through a drawer. After a few seconds, he pulled out the exact application form he was referring to. The moment the young man saw it, his face lit up. "Ah! My paper! That not¡­ scribbles. It Japanese¡ªold language¡­ before virus. I afraid no one¡­ understand, so I draw face, and also¡­ sword, shield. So you know I want to be knight." The headmaster blinked, glancing between the young man¡¯s beaming, innocent expression and the drawing on the form. Forget the language¡­ This guy is actually good at drawing. With a quiet sigh, he leaned back into his chair and asked: "Why not just write in English? You speak it well, even if the accent is different." The young man raised his right hand to his hair, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as if trying to suppress his unease. Then, in a lower voice, he admitted: "I learn English¡­ to talk, because I need in academy. But¡­ I cannot read or write." Finally, the misunderstanding became clear. Meanwhile ¨C A Hallway in the Academy The hallway was bathed in sunlight streaming through tall, crystal-clear windows. It was filled with first-year knight students, who were now freely chatting with each other. The initial social tension had faded, and they were finally getting to know one another¡ªlearning names, abilities, and forming connections. "Lazaria, your ability is really strange. I can see why your sister became one of the Crystal Knights at such a young age." These words came from Mizayani, the beautiful girl with soft pink hair and sky-blue eyes. Her red headband, neatly tied, added a touch of elegance to her appearance. She walked beside Lazaria, the blonde-haired, green-eyed knight-in-training. There was a clear sense of camaraderie between them. Lazaria responded with honesty, not modesty: "My ability is similar to my sister¡¯s, but in terms of strength, I¡¯m nothing compared to her. I don¡¯t have her natural talent." All the students nearby heard the conversation. The next to speak was Hikari Noya, a young man with dark gray hair and eyes of the same shade. Walking behind them, he spoke in a calm tone: "Your sister is the only Crystal Knight who doesn¡¯t come from a noble clan. That¡¯s an impressive achievement¡ªit¡¯s what all of us dream of." Before Lazaria could reply, Mizayani smirked, her voice playfully teasing as she turned toward Hikari: "A dream for all of us? I think you forgot to exclude yourself. No one expects you to become a Crystal Knight, anyway. Oh, wait¡ªforget that. You won¡¯t even reach the Silver Rank if you keep hiding behind your fog." Hikari didn¡¯t lose his composure. Instead, he smiled confidently and replied: "Hmm? At least I¡¯m not so heavy that I can¡¯t lift myself using a simple breeze." Mizayani¡¯s eye twitched in irritation. "My weight has nothing to do with it! Manipulating Menma particles in the air is harder than a rat like you could understand, hiding in the fog all the time!" At the back of the group, walking behind the students, was Instructor Makoto. They were heading back to class, but his attention drifted toward the windows, watching the white clouds move lazily across the blue sky. You¡¯re not enemies¡ªyou¡¯re allies. You¡¯ll only compete with each other so you can grow stronger. That¡¯s why conversations like these are important. They help you understand one another. The academic system had been updated two years ago to encourage maximum interaction among students. As long as there was no chaos or disorder, instructors were not allowed to silence them. The more they talked, the more trust they would build. And that trust¡ª Would one day push them beyond even the Crystal Knights themselves. But then¡ª A small thought nagged at the back of Makoto¡¯s mind. ¡­Why do I feel like I forgot something? It was almost funny. Neither Makoto nor any of the students realized¡ª That one of their classmates was missing. The excitement of the previous events had been so engaging¡ªso overwhelming¡ª That they had completely forgotten about the student who was supposed to be sitting in the tenth seat. ----- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon Chapter 35 ~ Train? Chapter 35 ~ Train? The wooden hallway of Ragandarok Academy stretched elegantly ahead, its polished floors reflecting the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Though the lanterns lining the walls remained unlit, beams of golden light pierced through the large windows, filtering in and out as passing clouds moved lazily across the autumn sky. The crisp air carried the faint scent of aged wood, a reminder of the academy''s long history. Makoto walked behind his students, his footsteps light and steady as they made their way toward the classroom. The air was calm, filled only with the quiet shuffle of boots against the wooden floor and the occasional rustling of fabric. But then, at a distance of twenty-five meters from the classroom door, something caught his eye. Two figures stood in front of the entrance. The first was the headmaster, his light brown hair neatly styled, his sharp eyes carrying the same color. He wore his usual brown suit, exuding an air of calm authority. The second was a young man, his presence unfamiliar. His hair was a blend of dark and light gray, a color that extended to his mismatched eyes¡ªhis right eye a deep shade of gray, his left a lighter hue. His uniform was identical to that of the other students, but one thing made him stand out. A samurai sword rested at his waist. Its scabbard was decorated in the same dual shades of gray as his hair and eyes, its craftsmanship too refined to be anything ordinary. The handle was jet black, its surface smooth, absorbing the faint light that touched it. A single loose strand of his hair curved slightly backward, barely shifting as he stood still. In that moment, Makoto finally realized what he had forgotten. During the Ability Showcase, one student had been missing. It wasn''t unusual¡ªhe hadn''t recognized the student''s name due to the strange, scribbled writing on his admission paper. But now, seeing this young man standing beside the headmaster, the missing piece clicked into place. As the students reached the doorway, they passed one by one, their footsteps quiet and controlled, entering the classroom without a word. Yet, despite their silence, curiosity filled the air like an unspoken whisper. The students were careful, not rude enough to stare openly, but each one stole a brief glance at the unfamiliar young man. His features were striking, his aura wrapped in mystery, yet he did not return their gazes. He never once looked at them. Mizayani, the pink-haired girl with the crimson headband, passed by like the others. Her bright blue eyes flickered briefly toward him before she stepped inside, showing no further interest. But there was something that none of them could ignore¡ª The sword at his waist. Their fleeting glances always led to it, their eyes lingering just a second longer before they forced themselves to look away. A student carrying a weapon openly wasn''t unheard of, but something about his sword¡ªits presence, its weight¡ªmade it feel different. The same quiet exchange repeated with each passing student. Except for two exceptions. Fayrouz and Fulan, the last in line. Fayrouz walked past the young man without sparing him a glance. He did not acknowledge her presence either. Neither of them looked at the other, as if they existed in separate realities. But when Fulan took his step forward, moving into the exact space the young man stood in¡ª Something changed. The gray-eyed student''s gaze shifted, ever so slightly, toward Fulan. His right eye, dark gray, and his left, light gray, moved with slow precision, locking onto Fulan''s face. Fulan, unaware at first, almost entered the classroom without noticing. But then¡ª "Black hair..." A faint whisper. A single breath of words. Fulan had already placed one foot inside the classroom, but the soft remark made him pause. Something about the way it was said¡ªlow, almost contemplative¡ªmade it impossible to ignore. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Instead of taking another step, he stilled. His golden eyes shifted, moving toward the gray-eyed student, only to find that the young man was already looking at him. Their gazes met. A brief, yet silent exchange. In front of them, Fayrouz continued walking, oblivious to what had just happened. Only two people took note of Fulan''s hesitation¡ªthe headmaster and Makoto. More than three seconds had passed. It was enough to be noticed. Makoto''s calm voice cut through the quiet air. "Is there something wrong, Fulan?" A few students, already seated inside, turned their heads in curiosity. But before the moment could grow too strange, Fulan did something unexpected¡ª He smiled. It was an easy, natural expression as he turned toward the young man beside him and replied: "No, I was just about to keep moving." Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he added¡ª "Though, I suppose my black hair is nothing compared to your fascinating, dual-colored one." After Fulan stepped into the classroom, Instructor Makoto turned his gaze toward the gray-haired young man standing at the door and asked, "You were in class before we left. Where did you go?" Before the young man could answer, the headmaster lifted a hand slightly, signaling that he would explain the situation. "It seems he left the classroom too late, and by the time he did, the students were already gone. This boy can''t read the signs around the academy, so he got lost and somehow ended up in my office." The headmaster spoke naturally, his words flowing with a tone of certainty. It was clear that he genuinely believed the explanation he was giving. But Instructor Makoto¡­ He didn''t. Something about it felt off. It wasn''t the perfect kind of lie¡ªthe kind he would normally accept without question. So, which one of them was right? Was it the headmaster, who saw the young man''s behavior as foolish but excusable? Or was it Makoto, who refused to believe the story simply because it didn''t convince him? With a slow movement, Makoto ran a hand through his silver-gray hair before sighing and stepping inside the classroom. "Class is over for today, but before we leave, come in and introduce yourself to the students." The young man took slow, steady steps behind Makoto, making his way toward the blackboard. The wooden flooring of the classroom creaked faintly under his weight, its polished surface reflecting the afternoon glow. The rows of seats, arranged in perfect order, gave the classroom a structured yet welcoming feel. But the moment he stepped to the front, all eyes were already on him. And just like that¡ª A look of tension crossed his face. As if struck by sudden pressure, he turned away from the class, facing the blackboard instead, his fingers lightly tracing the surface as he whispered something in a language unfamiliar to them¡ªJapanese. He was preparing his words. Muttering to himself in a hushed, anxious tone, like someone who had just received a certificate and was about to face a nerve-wracking job interview at a world-renowned company. Seconds passed. The silence stretched. Some students exchanged glances, slowly losing faith in him. His presence had felt so imposing at first¡ªhis striking features, his mysterious aura¡ªyet now, he stood frozen, unable to even introduce himself. The contrast was almost disappointing. Makoto let out a quiet sigh before murmuring under his breath, "I think I finally understand what the headmaster was trying to say." Then, stepping forward, he placed a firm yet reassuring hand on the young man''s shoulder and said in a calm voice, "You don''t need to be this nervous. Everyone here is still in the introduction phase. The train hasn''t left the station yet, so at the very least, tell them your name." The young man''s shoulders tensed slightly at first. But after hearing those words, he slowly turned around to face the students again. His eyes, however, remained low¡ªfocused on the floor¡ªas he reached up to lightly twist a loose strand of his hair between his fingers. Then, with a quiet voice, he muttered¡ª "Kazuki Ryoka..." There was no reaction. His surname held no weight. It wasn''t a name from a noble house or one with historical significance. And the students'' lack of response reflected that. To them, he was just another ordinary student¡ªdespite his striking appearance. Makoto gave Kazuki a light tap on the back before saying, "Make sure not to lag behind your classmates next time." Kazuki took slow steps toward his seat. His expression didn''t shift into a smile, but deep inside, he felt something unexpected¡ªa faint sense of relief. The instructor hadn''t been harsh with him. And that, at least, made him feel a little more at ease. Even as some students stole quick glances at the sword at his waist, Mizayani, the pink-haired girl with the crimson headband, turned toward Makoto just as the headmaster exited the room. Her brilliant blue eyes sparkled with curiosity as she asked, "Makoto, what do you mean by ''the train''?" By then, Makoto had already begun walking toward his desk, collecting books to mark the end of the lesson. He responded casually as he sorted through the pages, "You mean Teacher Makoto. The train¡­ It''s just a relic from the Age of Advancement. It''s mentioned in three historical books. At first, I thought it was nothing but a fictional tool, but some adventurers managed to find the remains of a broken train. Very few believed their story." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Some books contained illustrations of trains and railway tracks, and unlike the beauty of those drawings, the train the adventurers found was in terrible shape¡ªso decayed that grass was growing inside it." Then, with a small sigh, he added, "Well, there''s no point in describing it since I''ve never seen one myself. But from my research, the purpose of that thing called a ''train'' was to transport people across vast distances in a short time." And with that¡ª The first day of class came to an end. But the students were left in a state of disbelief. A machine that could transport people across long distances? The very concept felt impossible. For some, the idea sounded so ridiculous that they simply dismissed it. Others tried to imagine it, picturing a train being pulled by horses like a carriage. But the real question wasn''t just about the train itself. It was¡ª What was the true reason behind humanity''s massive decline in technological advancement? Why did this generation¡ªalong with their parents¡ªtreat history books as if they were mere fantasy novels? Why did they believe that the world their ancestors described had never truly existed¡ª That it was just a fictional dream of a past generation? These were deep, unanswered mysteries. But for Fulan¡ª None of it mattered. With cold, unwavering eyes, he ignored the weight of history, his mind focused on one thing alone¡ª His ultimate goal. ------ You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon Chapter 36 ~ The Fallen Kingdom of Tania Chapter 36.. [ The Fallen Kingdom of Tania ¨C Part I ] Far beyond the borders of Saita, across countless miles of abandoned roads and forgotten trails, lay the remains of a kingdom that once thrived¡ªTania. The journey there was a lonely one. The roads, once filled with merchants and travelers, were now desolate, overgrown with wild grass and cracked from years of neglect. There were no caravans, no guards patrolling the pathways¡ªonly the silent presence of nature reclaiming what was once hers. In the absence of humans, the animals had taken over. Deer moved cautiously between the trees, foxes darted through the underbrush, and crows circled above, their cries echoing in the vast emptiness. The scent of damp earth and fallen leaves filled the air, carried by the crisp winds of early autumn. But as the road neared its final destination, the scenery became bleak. From above, a sorrowful sight stretched across the land. The once-proud Kingdom of Tania lay in ruin. Thick, heavy clouds loomed above, blanketing the skies in shades of gray. There was no direct sunlight¡ªonly a faint, filtered glow that barely reached the ground, slipping weakly through gaps in the swirling storm above. The houses stood broken, some with their rooftops collapsed, others reduced to charred remains. The streets, though still used, lacked life¡ªpeople walked through them, but their steps were slow, heavy, their faces devoid of expression. Life still clung to this place, but only barely. Survivors of war moved through their routines with mechanical precision, trying to force themselves into a new reality. Children played with makeshift toys crafted from scraps of wood and stone, their laughter hollow, lacking the joy it should have carried. Vendors, with carts half-empty, sold what little they had, their voices quiet, tired. This was no longer a kingdom. This was a graveyard still pretending to be a home. At the very center of it all stood the royal palace¡ªonce the pride of Tania, now a monument of destruction. From the outside, most of its structure still stood, but scars of battle marked it heavily. Sections of the outer walls had collapsed, deep cracks ran through its towering pillars, and some of its towers were missing their peaks, crumbling into uneven rubble. Inside, the damage was even worse. The grand halls, once polished to perfection, were now fractured and broken. The once-pristine marble floors had been shattered in places, leaving behind uneven terrain with deep holes¡ªevidence of battles fought with supernatural strength. Massive cracks stretched across the walls, and in some areas, entire sections had crumbled to the ground, exposing the underlying stone. The air carried the scent of dust and old decay, mixing with the lingering traces of burnt wood and shattered stone. Even the very pathways meant for walking were unsafe¡ªmany were so heavily damaged that they seemed one wrong step away from collapsing entirely. And the people inside? The workers restoring the palace weren''t here by choice. Their expressions made that painfully clear. They moved sluggishly, their hands trembling as they carried stones, replaced fallen beams, and patched the cracks in the walls. Their faces lacked spirit, their eyes dull, filled with nothing but reluctance and quiet suffering. They worked not because they wanted to¡ªbut because they had no other option. Above them, even the grand ceiling of the palace was scarred. Once a masterpiece of elegant design, its royal engravings were now cracked, some portions even missing entirely. There were gaping holes, allowing thin streaks of light to pierce through, struggling to illuminate the darkened halls. A massive red carpet stretched across the floor, leading through the ruined corridors toward the throne room. Its once-luxurious texture was now torn and frayed, with scorch marks staining its edges. Along its sides, twin golden lines ran parallel to each other, meant to add a touch of grandeur¡ªbut even they had been marred by damage, their beauty diminished. Fragments of broken stone and shattered glass lay scattered over it, remnants of once-glorious chandeliers that had fallen during the battle. Vases that once held flowers of rare beauty were now nothing but jagged shards, their former splendor long gone. And then¡ª At the very end of the hall, behind the broken doors, sat the throne room¡ªthe place most heavily affected by destruction. The royal carpet stretched forward, leading directly to where the throne should have stood in all its majesty. But¡ª Even the throne itself had not escaped ruin. Once a masterpiece of craftsmanship, made from pure wood and gleaming copper, it now stood split down the middle, its two halves uneven, jagged. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Yet, despite this¡ª Someone still sat upon it. The only reason it remained standing was because its base was firmly fixed into the ground. Even though the seat itself had been severed, its foundation had not crumbled. And the man sitting upon it? He was not the rightful king of Tania. He was a man of broad build, slightly overweight, with a long brown beard and pale skin. His deep green eyes gleamed with a mixture of satisfaction and amusement. He rested his right elbow on the armrest of the broken throne, his cheek pressed lazily against his clenched fist. A smirk pulled at his lips as he spoke in a tone filled with self-satisfaction¡ª "A peaceful kingdom¡­ in an era of supernatural power? What a ridiculous idea." A chuckle rumbled from his throat before he continued, "There is no such thing as safety in this world. Thinking you can live in peace forever is nothing but arrogance. Sooner or later, we all have to suffer." It was clear. This man now saw himself as the ruler of the fallen Kingdom of Tania. But before he could bask in his twisted sense of victory, a voice¡ªone that had remained unseen until now¡ªspoke. From somewhere in the shadows of the throne room, a calm yet firm voice answered, "Our agreement was to bring down the Kingdom of Tania¡ªnothing more." The words cut through the air like steel, devoid of emotion, carrying only the weight of an unshaken warning. "But now, you have overstepped your bounds." A pause. Then¡ª "Did you truly expect us to go to war with the Kingdom of Saita for your sake?" The unseen speaker''s voice was cold, resolute. "No matter what offer you make¡­ none of us have any interest in facing a Crystal Knight." [ The Fallen Kingdom of Tania ¨C Part II ] The self-proclaimed king of Tania sat upon the shattered throne, his confident smirk never fading. Even as he listened to the words spoken to him, his expression remained calm¡ªalmost amused. With a relaxed chuckle, he finally responded, "Crystal Knights do not exist. They are nothing but myths spread by the people of Saita to comfort themselves¡ªa mere illusion of security. They are no more than fictional characters, fantasies with no proof of existence." His green eyes gleamed with arrogance as he leaned forward slightly. "Has anyone ever actually seen a knight clad in crystal armor? How does one even forge a suit of armor from crystal? It''s nonsense. The strongest knights in Saita are the Golden Knights, and the three of you could storm that kingdom on your own. I don''t understand why you hesitate so much." Another unseen voice¡ªcalm, steady¡ªspoke from the shadows. "And do you truly believe that the entire world fears soldiers who do not exist? Just because you cannot see something does not mean it isn''t real. We will not take on a mission that may lead to our deaths." For the first time, the king''s smile faltered¡ªjust slightly. His fingers drummed lightly against the damaged armrest of his throne as he muttered, almost to himself, "The entire world fears them...? No one truly knows the limits of this world or the secrets it holds." A brief silence filled the chamber. Then, the same unseen voice spoke again. "Putting that matter aside¡ªthat boy, Fulan. You intend to give him three whole years of freedom? Why do you assume he won''t simply escape and abandon his clan?" The king''s smirk widened, his confidence unwavering. "Fulan isn''t that kind of person. He will succeed in completing his mission and return alive." His voice dropped lower, filled with twisted amusement. "And once he does, I will tame him¡ªbreak him. I will make him my servant¡­ no, my slave. And if he refuses? Then I will threaten to wipe out his entire clan and village again." A third voice¡ªthe last of the unseen figures¡ªfinally spoke, his tone just as calm as the others. "Three years¡­ It would be unbearably dull for us to stay in this ruined kingdom for that long. We will leave tomorrow to continue our exploration of this world''s wonders. When the time draws near, we will return." With those words, the three figures began walking toward the large wooden doors, their presence still shrouded in mystery. As they reached the threshold, the king called out to them with a smug grin, "I know how precise you are when it comes to keeping appointments. But if you''re even a day late, Fulan will have already killed me by then, and our deal will be ruined." Two of the men exited first, stepping through the damaged, copper-adorned doors without another word. The last, however, paused just before leaving. His voice, thoughtful yet sharp, echoed through the throne room. "We''ll return a month or two before the deadline. But, Alaric¡ª" A slight pause. "That boy¡­ Fulan¡­ He possesses a talent unlike anything I''ve seen before." His tone carried a strange mix of intrigue and wariness. "Somehow, he is able to copy or mimic Menma particles¡ªor something similar. I don''t fully understand how his ability works, but¡­ if he had been capable of copying one of our abilities on that day¡ª" Before he could finish his sentence, the king closed his eyes. His expression remained calm, but there was an undeniable weight behind his voice as he interrupted, "Arisu, you''re overthinking things again." Then, he slowly opened his dark green eyes, exuding absolute confidence in the words he was about to speak. "The Nanimo Clan. A name that means nothing in an old language once known as Japanese. They were given this name because they are powerless, without talent, without ability." His smirk returned, his tone filled with contempt. "Some members of their clan can mimic abilities¡ªbut only for a short period of time. That is all that happened with Fulan. Nothing more." His fingers curled against the damaged throne. "They are nobodies. Like water, they have no color. Water has no true form, just like Fulan and his Clan¡ªno presence, no history. Nothing. That is the meaning of his lineage." The man standing at the door remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he finally spoke. "My battle against Fulan was harder than my battle against the soldiers of this kingdom." His words hung in the air. "And though I humiliated him in that fight¡ªdragging him through the dirt¡ªhe still forced me to take the battle seriously." His gaze lingered on the king for just a moment longer. "You underestimate him too much." Then¡ª He stepped through the doorway, disappearing into the ruined halls. For a few seconds, silence settled within the throne room. Then, the king let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "Meaningless nonsense." Leaning back against his throne, his smile turned cold. "The members of his clan are so weak that they die when they copy abilities their bodies can''t handle." A quiet hum. "Erasing them¡ªpurging their useless genes from humanity¡ªis the best solution." A Kingdom in the Clouds Above the ruined palace, a lone bird soared through the heavy, overcast sky. Its feathers, dark and sleek, fluttered against the cold winds as it glided effortlessly across the decaying kingdom below. The sky, thick with gray clouds, hung oppressively over the land, casting a dull, lifeless glow. Though no sunlight could be seen, faint streaks of light occasionally broke through, illuminating patches of despair and destruction. From this height, Tania''s ruins stretched endlessly, a testament to the war that had shattered it. The damaged buildings, the scarred roads, the defeated people¡ª Everything spoke of a kingdom clinging desperately to its past, unable to move forward, unable to heal. And as the bird flew farther, the scene beneath it began to fade. Like the passing of time, like the shifting of memories¡ª The image of this fallen kingdom took shape, providing answers to many questions. But even now¡ª Shadows still covered parts of the picture. For every truth uncovered, countless more questions remained. ----- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon Chapter 37 ~ Cafeteria. Chapter 37 ~ Cafeteria. The academy''s school day ends precisely at noon, giving students the rest of the day to spend as they please. Lunchtime marks the beginning of this free period, with students gathering in the vast dining hall, bathed in the soft golden glow of lanterns. These were no ordinary lanterns¡ªinside them, tiny Menma cells shimmered like scattered shards of light, pulsating faintly with a quiet, otherworldly beauty. The Menma cells, a natural energy source in this world untouched by electricity, pulsed gently, their glow subdued in daylight but promising a much stronger radiance come nightfall. The effect was mesmerizing¡ªlike embers caught in an eternal suspension, floating within the glass casings of the lanterns, casting delicate flickers of light across the wooden walls and long dining tables. The atmosphere inside the dining hall was warm, inviting, and infused with the subtle scent of freshly baked bread and simmering broths. The cafeteria was expansive, designed to accommodate students from all three years, though never all at once. With the academy housing far too many students for a single dining hall to hold, the solution was simple¡ªstudents themselves adjusted their schedules. Those who disliked the midday rush would come at different times, and since the cafeteria remained open from morning until night, this system worked effortlessly. One might assume that dinner would be the most crowded time, but in reality, over 65% of the academy''s students skipped dinner altogether, preferring a nutritious breakfast instead to maintain peak physical condition. The academy had once implemented a strict dietary plan for students, as Fayrouz had mentioned to Lazaria before, but the new headmaster had changed this, making it an optional system rather than a mandatory one. Now, students were free to eat however and whenever they wanted, as long as they followed the academy''s core rules¡ªamong them, no leaving the academy grounds and no unauthorized entry into gender-restricted dormitories. At present, the cafeteria was brimming with first-year students, along with a fair number of second- and third-years. Fulan, his jet-black hair slightly tousled, stood in line for seven minutes before finally receiving his meal. Holding his tray, he scanned the room for an open table¡ªan impossible task during peak lunch hours. He would have to join a group. His sharp black eyes moved from side to side as he walked, assessing his options. Suddenly, he spotted a familiar face¡ªMundo, the bald, athletic man with deep brown skin, was waving at him with a friendly grin. This time, he wasn''t shirtless; instead, he wore the white-and-green uniform of the Adventurers'' Division, one of the three official academy uniforms. The academy''s formal attire was divided into three categories based on specialization: Knights Division: White and black. Adventurers Division: White and green. Exploration Corps: White and silver. Fulan, belonging to the Knights Division, wore the white-and-black variant. He hadn''t expected to run into Mundo again so soon, but given the current circumstances, sharing a meal with him was better than eating alone. Approaching the table, Fulan took a seat across from Mundo. Four others were already sitting at the rectangular table, which was built to accommodate six people at once. Mundo, his mouth full of pasta, was the first to speak. "I don''t know why, but it feels like it''s been forever, even though the exam was just yesterday." Fulan, placing a slice of meat inside his bread, responded casually, "You''re right. Time moves slowly here." He then glanced at Mundo''s meal before adding, "By the way¡ªpasta? Shouldn''t you be following a better diet?" Mundo, twirling his fork, gestured toward the bread in Fulan''s hands with an amused smirk. "And what about you? Eating meat with bread? You''re stuffing your stomach in a ridiculous way. If you had just asked, they would have given you more meat¡ªlike they did for me." This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Fulan took a bite of his simple sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before responding after a few seconds. "I grew up in a poor family, so bread was always present at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Even when there were no other ingredients, you could always eat bread with tea as a meal. Simply put, bread is the food of the poor. And I take pride in that past, so I don''t want to change this habit. But enough about me¡ªwhat about you? How was your first day?" At that question, Mundo completely forgot about the food discussion. A faint, disappointed smile crossed his face as he sighed and spoke in a quieter tone. "Fulan¡­ I think I was too full of myself, man. The path of an adventurer isn''t as easy as I thought. Honestly, I feel ashamed. Right now, I''m the weakest in the class¡­ I''m literally at the bottom." Fulan found Mundo''s words strange. He wasn''t weak¡ªnot by any means. In fact, he had taken down Akira, the Lightning Boy, with a single blow, launching him out of the arena. Even though it hadn''t been a traditional fight, Mundo had clearly demonstrated overwhelming strength. If someone like him is admitting to being weak¡­ then what kind of monsters are in the Adventurers'' class? As they continued their meal, their conversation shifted to simpler topics about their first day at the academy, sharing small details and experiences between bites. The dining hall remained lively, filled with the murmurs of students, the occasional bursts of laughter, and the clatter of utensils against plates. The scent of freshly cooked meals lingered in the air, blending with the faint aroma of burning Menma cells from the lanterns above. After a few minutes, Fulan finished his meal and left the cafeteria, heading toward his room in the male dormitory wing. Mundo''s words lingered in his mind, filling him with curiosity and a slight unease. The dormitory corridors were long and made of polished dark wood, their surface worn smooth from the footsteps of countless students over the years. The glow of Menma lanterns lined the hallway, their light soft and golden, casting elongated shadows that flickered gently with the flow of energy inside them. The corridor smelled faintly of aged wood and the crisp, clean scent of the outdoors that filtered in through the open windows. As Fulan walked, lost in thought, his gaze flickered forward. Just ten meters ahead, a slender young woman leaned casually against the wooden wall, her arms crossed, eyes closed as though she were deep in thought¡ªor perhaps waiting for something. Her long, flowing purple hair cascaded past her shoulders, contrasting with her pale complexion. The academy uniform she wore was black and white¡ªthe unmistakable colors of the Knights Division. Yet, Fulan had never seen her before. He had already memorized the faces of his classmates, and she wasn''t among them. Who is she? Still, it was none of his concern. Without hesitation, he decided to walk past her, treating her presence as nothing more than part of the scenery. But just as he took two steps beyond her, a calm voice broke the silence. "It seems we''ve finally met." Something about her tone made him pause. He wasn''t sure if those words were directed at him or not, but after a moment of hesitation, he turned his head and looked at her. She still hadn''t opened her eyes. After a brief silence, he asked, "Do I know you?" At last, she slowly lifted her eyelids, revealing a pair of stunning, amethyst-colored eyes that shimmered like refined gemstones. Her expression remained calm and unreadable as she replied, "Know you? Of course not. It would be impossible for a noble like myself to have any prior connection to a commoner like you." In that instant, Fulan understood exactly who he was dealing with. This girl came from one of the rarest bloodlines in the Kingdom of Saita¡ªone of the so-called nobles. He said nothing, merely observing her. Noticing his silence, the girl continued, her tone remaining neutral, "Don''t misunderstand me. I don''t dislike commoners in general." She then narrowed her eyes slightly, her voice sharpening ever so subtly. "I just dislike you in particular." Fulan''s expression remained composed, his voice steady as he asked, "And what exactly did I do to earn this special kind of attention from you?" For the first time, the noble girl''s expression shifted slightly. Her dark purple eyebrows furrowed just a little, a sign of growing seriousness. Then, almost instantly, her violet eyes began to glow. "You already know the answer to that," she said, her voice carrying a sharp edge. "It is impossible for a mere commoner like you to defeat Akira in a fair fight. That boy is reckless, but he is not weak. I can guarantee that." Everything suddenly became clearer to Fulan. She has a connection to Akira. Yet, there was no resemblance in their hair color or eye color, meaning they weren''t siblings. Then who is she? And what does she really want from me? . . [A/N] In the Talent Sports Festival arc, I started trying to keep chapters between 2,500 and 3,000 words, so it was becoming difficult to prepare that many words per day. I''ll have to reduce the number of chapters to five per week. If I limit the word count to 4,000 words, I''ll likely have to reduce the number of days I post to four per week (one day I post, one day I don''t). You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon Chapter 38: Purple Lightning Chapter 38: Purple Lightning The academy''s narrow wooden corridor stretched out in an elegant path, its polished surface reflecting the golden glow of ornate lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The lanterns themselves were mesmerizing, with tiny Menma cells drifting inside like fragments of stardust, glowing softly as they pulsed with faint life. Every now and then, the luminescent particles shifted, their golden light shimmering like fireflies trapped in liquid amber. The air carried a faint scent of aged wood, mixed with a subtle metallic tang¡ªperhaps a lingering trace of the Menma''s unique energy. Standing in the corridor, a girl with long violet hair waited with an unmistakable air of purpose. Her amethyst eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, their soft radiance betraying the intensity behind them. The expression on her face was serious¡ªshe had been waiting specifically for Fulan. After grasping the situation, Fulan finally spoke, his deep black eyes calm and unreadable beneath his midnight-colored hair. "If you''re asking me this," he said quietly, "then it can only mean one thing¡ªyou weren''t present at the entrance exam. That means you''re either a second-year or a third-year student." He paused for a moment, glancing at her attire before adding, "And judging by your uniform, you''re undeniably part of the Knights Division." The girl observed Fulan in silence for a few seconds before slowly raising her right index finger. She held it steady, positioning it perfectly in the space between her face and his. Suddenly, her long violet hair began to shift, strands lifting and dancing as if caught in a phantom breeze. The air around her shimmered, and several locks of her hair began to glow with a pale purple light. The faintest hum filled the corridor, a whisper of energy building up around her. Zap! A small sphere of purple lightning crackled into existence at her fingertip, its surface flickering with unpredictable bursts of electricity. Tiny sparks snapped and arced through the surrounding air, the energy generating a localized wind strong enough to push Fulan''s black hair backward. The same force whipped through the girl''s long locks, sending them fluttering wildly behind her. The sound of the crackling electricity filled the corridor, a rhythmic pulse of energy sparking in unpredictable bursts. "I am Akira''s cousin," she said, her tone unwavering. "My bloodline is rare¡ªpeople call us the Purple Lightning Menma users. But even though my family are nobles, Akira''s branch is of lesser standing. Blue lightning is weak. All his clan can do is move at the speed of lightning¡ªthat''s the extent of their abilities." Her violet eyes flashed, and the sphere of electricity let out a sharp crackle. "But me¡­ I can form and manipulate the Menma particles of Purple Lightning. If I wanted to, I could reduce a nobody like you to ash in seconds." The winds generated by the electric sphere continued to push against Fulan''s uniform and hair, yet his expression remained completely neutral. He didn''t flinch, didn''t show any signs of fear or unease. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the ball of lightning disappeared the moment she lowered her finger. The air instantly fell still, as if the moment of power had never occurred. Fulan exhaled softly, then closed his eyes for a brief moment before responding. "Whatever you''re trying to accomplish," he said calmly, "I''m afraid I''ll have to refuse. I don''t see any point in this." He opened his black eyes once more, his voice growing firmer. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "Unlike you, I don''t have time to play around. I can''t afford to waste my energy on a meaningless fight." For the first time, the girl''s dark purple eyebrows twitched downward in irritation. Then¡ª Fzzzz! A pulse of invisible energy erupted from her, an unseen force shaking the corridor like a sudden storm. Fulan''s uniform rippled violently, his black hair whipping backward as if caught in a powerful gust. The girl''s long violet hair billowed around her like a living storm, her coat flaring dramatically as the shockwave expanded. The Menma lanterns lining the corridor trembled, their golden glow flickering¡ªand then shifting to a deep, ominous violet. In an instant, the entire corridor was bathed in purple light. Then¡ª A thin line of blood slid down Fulan''s cheek. He hadn''t moved. She hadn''t moved. Yet, somehow, a small, precise cut had appeared on his skin. Her violet eyes burned brighter, her gaze unrelenting. "A meaningless fight?" she repeated, her voice dangerously soft. "I don''t think you understand me, Fulan." Her aura pulsed again, the lingering traces of purple lightning crackling faintly in the air. "If we were outside the academy, I''d crush you without hesitation. But unfortunately, I am bound by the rules." Her tone dropped lower, her words carrying a sharp finality. "Fulan Nanimo¡ªyou are the reason Akira was eliminated from the entrance exam. So I think I''ll keep an eye on you for a while." She turned away as she spoke, her long hair flowing behind her like liquid dusk. With an air of effortless confidence, she began walking down the corridor¡ªthe same path Fulan had come from. But just before she vanished from sight, she suddenly stopped. Without turning back, she said, "By the way¡­ it''s coming soon. The Talent Festival." Her voice was steady, yet there was an unmistakable edge to it. "I hope¡ªat the very least¡ªyou''re talented enough to fill Akira''s empty seat." And with that, she walked away, her silhouette disappearing into the dimly lit corridor. Fulan remained still for a moment before lifting his thumb to his cheek, wiping away the thin line of blood. He let out a quiet sigh before continuing on his way to the male dormitory wing. ''I was supposed to go unnoticed. I was supposed to keep a low profile. Why is this so difficult? Why do I keep getting involved with people I should be avoiding?'' As he walked, the thought of the Talent Festival lingered in the back of his mind. According to what the headmaster had explained during the entrance exam, all students were monitored through Menma particles that had been infused into the welcome candies given to them on the first day. Since Fulan''s goal was to avoid unnecessary trouble and maintain a clean record, he had imposed a strict rule on himself¡ªnever use his ability unless absolutely necessary. Meanwhile, in the spacious dining hall reserved for teachers, servants, and the headmaster, the atmosphere was quiet and peaceful. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm bread filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of casual conversation. Suddenly, one of the academy''s surveillance officers entered the hall, his face tense with urgency. Glancing around, he quickly approached a blonde woman with pink eyes, wearing round glasses. She sat among her colleagues, a cup of coffee mixed with milk in her hands, laughing softly at a conversation. Noticing the man''s troubled expression, she sighed even before he spoke. "Let me guess," she muttered, placing a hand on her forehead. "It''s Serania, isn''t it?" She exhaled in mild frustration. "That girl gives me such a headache." After a brief pause, she added, "She''s been ranting all morning about how she''ll never forgive the one who got her cousin expelled. As usual, she ignored everything I told her¡­ But she''s not foolish enough to break the rules outright. What did she do?" The surveillance officer, dressed in the academy''s formal black-and-white servant uniform, answered quietly, "She used 4.7% of her power." The blonde woman rested a hand on her chin, thinking. "Hmm¡­ At that level, she could punch through a wooden plank if she fired a concentrated shot." A moment later, she nodded. "She wasn''t being serious, then. That''s fine. I''ll talk to her later." 4.7%. That was all it took for Hanabi Serania, the eighth strongest student in the entire academy, to shift the air, distort the lanterns, and leave a mark on Fulan. . [A/N] No Chapter Tomorrow. You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon Chapter 39; Weak…? Me...? Chapter 39; Weak¡­? Me...? The morning sun shone brightly over the academy, bathing its grand halls and towering walls in warm golden light. The air was crisp and refreshing, carrying the faint scent of fallen leaves¡ªa perfect autumn morning. Unlike the past few days, where gray clouds had hung heavily in the sky, today was clear and vibrant, the kind of day that made it easy to breathe deeply and feel awake. By 7:00 to 7:30 AM, most students were already stirring, preparing for the start of another school day. The sounds of running water, footsteps in the dormitory halls, and quiet morning conversations echoed through the academy as students dressed in their uniforms and mentally prepared for their lessons. By 8:00 AM, the classrooms were filled, the daily routine about to begin. Among the many classrooms in the academy, one was reserved for the first-year Knights Division¡ªa class of only ten students. And among them sat a boy with messy black hair and equally dark eyes. Fulan Nanimo. "Good morning." The voice came from the front of the room as Instructor Makoto stepped inside, carrying a stack of neatly arranged books. His footsteps were steady as he walked towards his desk. Before the students even had a chance to reply, he continued, "I spent last night creating a custom training plan for each of you. I''ll be distributing them now. Read them carefully and try your best to apply the recommendations." The students exchanged glances, their expressions quiet but undeniably impressed. In just one night, Instructor Makoto had managed to craft individualized training plans for each student. His dedication was clear. After placing his books on the desk, Makoto began distributing the papers one by one. Each student received three sheets of paper specifically tailored to them. Fulan took his set of documents, his fingers lightly brushing over the crisp pages. But as his eyes scanned the contents, he couldn''t help but be taken aback by the sheer amount of detail and complex theories written down. Before the students could get fully absorbed in reading, Makoto spoke again, his voice calm yet firm. "I told you before that after learning about the history of Menma, we would move on to the next phase¡ªunderstanding the Menma particles you inherited from your parents." As he spoke, Makoto walked toward Kazuki, a boy with a mix of light and dark gray hair, before continuing, "Each student has three pages. The first page contains an analysis of your ability and its characteristics. The second page includes a simple illustration showing how your Menma cells interact with the air. This will help you control your breathing in combat, allowing you to maximize your power. The third page outlines a list of potential special techniques you might be able to execute if you push beyond your limits. Of course, there''s no guarantee that you''ll be able to master these techniques¡­ but I don''t believe it''s impossible either. Everything depends on your willpower." The room fell silent as the students focused intently on their first page, trying to grasp a better understanding of their own abilities. The rustling of paper and the soft sound of flipping pages filled the air. Meanwhile, Makoto placed a steady hand on Kazuki''s shoulder. "You were absent yesterday, so I haven''t seen your ability yet," he said. "I can create a plan for you as well if you show it to me." Kazuki met his gaze with calm eyes before offering a small, confident smile. "It''s fine," he said. "I''ve been training like this since I was five years old. I understand my ability better than anyone else." Makoto hadn''t expected such a response. After a brief moment, he simply nodded before turning away, walking back toward his desk. "If that''s your decision¡­" As the rest of the class remained deeply engaged in deciphering their training plans, Fulan found himself briefly looking toward Kazuki. After a second, his gaze dropped back to his own set of documents. A single thought passed through his mind. So I''m not the only one in this class who fully understands his own ability. He then shifted his attention fully to the words written on the pages before him. I have to admit¡­ he thought, scanning the detailed breakdown and thoughtful suggestions outlined by Instructor Makoto. This analysis and these recommendations are incredibly well thought out¡­ Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. However¡ª Unfortunately, everything written here about my ability is wrong. Fulan''s dark eyes lingered on the text. There are two fundamental methods to copying abilities. Without understanding those two methods, these documents are useless to me. Most of the report focused on White Tiger''s ability. A meaningless power that my body has simply grown used to. Just because it''s the first thing I think of, doesn''t mean it''s the strongest thing I can use. The classroom was wrapped in silence for a few minutes. Makoto-sensei observed his students with mild surprise as they read through the information he had given them, their expressions marked by deep concentration. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He was just about to turn towards his office, intending to let them process everything at their own pace, when a sharp thud echoed through the room. Mizayani, the pink-haired girl with a red headband and striking blue eyes, had slammed her hands against her desk, her face flushed with embarrassment. "What do you mean by ''walking in the air''?! And making the people around me float?!" she exclaimed, her tone dripping with disbelief. "What kind of powers do you think I have?" Makoto-sensei gazed at her calmly, unbothered by her outburst. Before he could respond, a voice from behind her spoke up. "As a rule, I''d usually say that a cute and charming girl like you doesn''t belong in a place like this." Asahi, the silver-eyed boy with snow-white hair, leaned back in his chair with a smirk, his words carrying a teasing arrogance. Mizayani''s expression instantly twisted in irritation, her blue eyes narrowing as she shot him a glare that could pierce through steel. But before she could fire back, Asahi casually added, "But seeing what Sensei wrote here¡­ yeah, I get why you''re upset, Mizayani." His silver eyes shifted toward Makoto. "Sensei, you know I can create a semi-transparent shield just by punching or touching the air. But seriously, a dome around the entire Saita Kingdom? Who do you think I am?" At his words, Fulaan''s dark eyes widened in sheer astonishment. His mind reeled at the magnitude of such a task, and he found himself involuntarily imagining it¡ªan enormous, shimmering barrier enveloping an entire kingdom. The thought sent a visible shiver through him. It wasn''t just Mizayani and Asahi; most of the students were overwhelmed by the seemingly impossible tasks written before them. Makoto-sensei, ever composed, exhaled softly before speaking. "This is a valid concern. However, I am not the one who will provide you with the answers." His voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that made the students hang onto his every word. "In one month, the Annual Talent Festival will begin. It is an event where rewards and recognition are given to those who excel, attracting spectators from far and wide. Participation is usually optional, but for you all..." His gaze swept across the room, unyielding. "You will participate¡ªwhether you like it or not. This is an order. You need to understand just how weak you are compared to the rest of this academy. You have one month. Either you surpass your limits so that no one will mock your incompetence, or you remain at the bottom and suffer a humiliating defeat." A sharp silence followed. Then, Mizayani, her voice eerily calm, broke it. "Weak¡­? Me...?" Her blue eyes shimmered like gemstones, and the air around her stirred. Without warning, a fierce gust of wind erupted, sending papers, chairs, and even her desk tumbling through the air. Her pink hair whipped violently around her face, her uniform rippling as if caught in the heart of a storm. The entire classroom was consumed by the force of her power, and the students instinctively shielded their eyes against the sudden gale. A cold intensity burned in Mizayani''s gaze as she spoke, her voice cutting through the swirling wind like a blade. "Makoto, what exactly do you know about me?" The wind grew stronger, rattling the windows and sending loose sheets of paper fluttering like frightened birds. "I ranked third in the entrance exam''s speed trials," she continued, her tone sharp with defiance. "Who, exactly, do you think is stronger than me¡ªin this class or any other?" The pressure in the room was suffocating. Students clutched their desks and papers, their hair and clothes billowing wildly as the storm intensified. But Makoto-sensei remained still, his gray hair shifting slightly with the wind. He had no intention of using his own power to stop her. "You''ll find the answer yourself at the Talent Festival," he said simply, his voice unwavering. For a moment, Mizayani''s teeth clenched in frustration. Then, her lips curled into a grin. "Fine," she said, her eyes gleaming with determination as the winds suddenly died down. The papers fluttered to the ground, the air settling as if nothing had happened. "All I have to do is participate, right? I''ll crush every single one of those so-called ''stronger'' students without bothering to learn these ''special moves.''" At this academy, students were given freedom to express themselves¡ªeven in ways as dramatic as this. There was no need to suppress them. Rather, a teacher''s role was to understand their way of thinking and guide them accordingly. This philosophy was best exemplified in the relationship between Hanabi Seranya, the violet-haired girl, and her teacher. The way her instructor spoke of her when she broke the rules suggested a bond closer to that of an older sister guiding a younger one. The role of a teacher was not just to instruct, but to be a mentor and a friend. This was the policy of the new headmaster. Three years ago, such rules had not existed. Everything had changed because of him. As Mizayani adjusted her chair and sat back down, another voice spoke up¡ªcalm and thoughtful. Lazaria, the blonde-haired girl with green eyes, turned her gaze toward Asahi, who still wore his usual smug expression. "By the way," she began, her tone measured, "I read in an old history book that the Saita Kingdom used to be called Madrid. It was the capital of a country known as Spain." Her eyes gleamed with curiosity as she continued. "When I compared the old world map to ours, I realized something... Madrid was just a tiny speck compared to the rest of the world." A pause. Then, she concluded with an eerie certainty, "If those records were accurate¡­ that would mean we don''t even know one percent of our own world." Silence once again gripped the room. The students turned to look at Lazaria, their faces reflecting a mix of fascination and disbelief. Her words felt less like a statement and more like the opening to an unimaginable revelation. -- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon Chapter 40: The Calm Before the Storm Chapter 40: The Calm Before the Storm Lazaria, the blonde-haired girl with emerald-green eyes, spoke calmly as she explained a few things she had read in historical books. Initially, her words were directed at Asahi, the silver-eyed, white-haired boy who had spoken moments ago. However, as she continued, she found herself unintentionally capturing the attention of the entire class¡ªincluding Makoto-sensei. She only realized this when she finished speaking about Spain''s capital. As she glanced around, she noticed that every student was looking at her as if she had just delivered a captivating lecture. Blinking, she asked in a composed voice, "What? I was just repeating what I read in some books about the complete map of the ancient world." Asahi, the intended recipient of her words, smirked with confidence before responding after a brief silence. "As if that''s possible. The Saita Kingdom is the center and capital of the world. No other kingdom matches its power and size. Comparing this vast kingdom to some city called ''Madrid'' is laughable. I bet that Madrid is the size of a small village." Lazaria had received her first criticism, but before she could respond, Mizayani, the pink-haired girl with a red headband, finished adjusting her chair and spoke. "I remember hearing similar stories. My grandfather used to show me maps of the old world, but whenever I asked if those stories were true, he simply told me that he had spent his life believing in them. He passed away before he could find out the truth. He had faith in that era without solid proof." The two nearly bald brothers, who had fought Fulaan the day before, listened intently. The older brother, Shinso, then voiced his thoughts. "But if the world really is as vast as Lazaria claims, why don''t we receive visitors from distant kingdoms beyond the ones we already know?" This idea intrigued Hikari, the dark-gray-haired boy who could cover his surroundings in mist. Supporting the notion, he added, "That''s true. The kingdoms we''re familiar with are Saita, Tania, and Malina. Most of us here are either native to Saita or from the villages surrounding it. I don''t think there''s anyone among us who actually came from Tania or Malina, right?" At the back of the classroom, Fulaan sat quietly, resting his cheek against his hand as he listened to their discussion, deep in thought. It took me three days of travel to reach the Saita Kingdom, and an ordinary person would need more than ten. That''s only because the White Tiger''s ability was a real asset to me. I have no knowledge of the outside world, but I''ve never seen its boundaries with my own eyes. It just seems like an endless land I could run across forever, so I can''t say for sure whether there are other humans beyond the well-known kingdoms or not. His dark eyes shifted slightly as he observed the rest of the class. It was clear that the students fell into two categories. The first group consisted of those who rarely participated, preferring to observe quietly¡ªhimself, Fairoz, Mizuhara, the brown-haired girl with matching brown eyes who could turn invisible, and Kazuki, the boy whose hair was a mix of dark and light gray. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. The second group comprised those who actively voiced their opinions and occasionally asked questions¡ªLazaria, the arrogant Asahi, the wind-wielding Mizayani, the mist user Hikari, and the brothers Shinso and Yuta. These were the conclusions Fulaan reached simply by observing his classmates. But as his gaze moved slowly across the room, he suddenly found himself making eye contact with Makoto-sensei. Something about it felt odd. A teacher should naturally be watching the students who were speaking, not the silent ones. If this meant anything, it was that Makoto-sensei was doing exactly what Fulaan was doing¡ªanalyzing the class, determining who actively engaged in discussions and who remained silent. Not wanting to draw any unnecessary suspicion, Fulaan quickly shifted his approach. He smiled gently and spoke in a relaxed tone, "Not all of us are interested in history, right?" It was a strange question on the surface, but Fulaan had just done something strategic¡ªhe pulled Makoto-sensei into the conversation with him. By pretending to be bored, he subtly implied that both he and his teacher were on the same page, waiting for this conversation to end. Makoto-sensei smiled slightly at Fulaan''s remark before addressing the class in a calm tone. "That''s true. Let''s keep these discussions outside the classroom. Lazaria, it''s good that you enjoy reading books as a hobby, but in our time, those stories are nothing more than myths¡ªcloser to fantasy than reality. Don''t get too attached to them. Leave questions about what lies beyond the kingdom''s borders to the adventurers and the Exploration Corps. As knights, your duty is clear¡ªprotecting the kingdom and its people." The students listened attentively. "In addition to your training, there are three fundamental things every knight must learn. First, the history and laws of the Saita Kingdom. Second, the Italian language." The room remained quiet, but at the mention of the Italian language, Mizayani furrowed her brows and asked, "One of the forgotten ancient languages? Everyone already speaks English¡ªwhy would we need another language?" Makoto-sensei regarded her with his usual composed expression before replying, "We need a language for communication between knights, adventurers, and the Exploration Corps. There are times when they collaborate on certain missions, and to maintain privacy and security, we need a language that ordinary citizens won''t understand. By the way, Italian was chosen as the official language twenty years ago by the previous headmaster, so we can''t change it now." He paused briefly before adding, "There''s one more thing. Unlike the Exploration Corps and adventurers, you are the ones the king trusts the most. Because of this, a unique form of communication was developed specifically for the kingdom''s knights¡ªsign language." A ripple of curiosity spread across the class. "More than thirty hand gestures, each with a distinct meaning. I want to make it clear that you are strictly forbidden from teaching this language to anyone who isn''t a knight. Communication among you is crucial, so you can consider this our final ace in difficult missions. This, in short, is the knights'' curriculum¡ª85% training, 15% studying what I just explained." With that, the structure of their education became clear. Some students felt relieved. The system was much simpler than expected. In reality, Makoto-sensei was only asking them to develop their abilities according to the plans he had outlined for each of them. It was structured, yet it still allowed for a degree of free training. And with that, time began to move faster. A full month passed in the blink of an eye. The relationships between students hadn''t deepened much, but at the very least, they had learned each other''s names and abilities. Everything was now clear. Each student understood what they needed to do. A quiet and peaceful month slipped by¡ªfilled with thought, reflection, training, and study. The academy was calm, the classes orderly, and the food system flexible. A relaxing month¡­ But now, that peace had come to an end. The curtain was rising on an event that would change everything. ------- You Can Always Read More while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon Chapter 41 ~ The last step before the talent festival Chapter 41 ~ The last step before the talent festival Ragandarok Academy, with its elegant wooden architecture, stood grandly among hundreds of rooms and dozens of corridors. Tonight, on the eve of the Talent Festival, the academy was bathed in a quiet yet expectant atmosphere. Through the dimly lit hallways, faint voices echoed, guiding the way to the headmaster''s office. Inside, the warm glow of lanterns mounted on the walls cast flickering orange-yellow hues across the room. The air carried the subtle scent of aged wood and parchment, mingling with the faint traces of ink from the documents spread across the heavy wooden desk. A polished glass sphere rested gracefully on the desk, cradled by an elegant wooden stand that blended seamlessly with the refined decor. It was filled with luminous Menma particles that drifted lazily like fireflies in slow motion, releasing a soft, golden light. Unlike electricity, which had faded into near obscurity in this era, the world now relied on Menma¡ªparticles with a natural luminescent quality that illuminated their surroundings without straining the eyes. Electrical studies had long been forgotten, regarded as ancient knowledge lost to time. The very idea of harnessing electricity felt like a distant myth, and whether anyone still possessed such knowledge remained a mystery. The headmaster, a man with light brown hair and matching eyes, sat in his polished wooden chair, flipping through several documents presented by the three individuals standing before him. Dressed impeccably in his usual brown suit, he exuded a calm yet authoritative presence as he spoke. "Most second- and third-year students show little interest in participating in this year''s festival. They only joined last year because it was the first event of its kind. This is quite disappointing, as the people of the kingdom were hoping for this festival to become an annual tradition. As for the first-year students, let''s see... First, the Exploration Corps class. Six out of ten students are participating¡ªmore than half?" His gaze shifted to the teacher responsible for that class. She was a woman with jet-black hair tied into a ponytail, brown eyes framed by glasses with a matching brown frame, and she wore loose black clothing that gave her an air of composed professionalism. This was her second appearance in the story. With a calm voice, she responded: "I spent the past month trying to convince all of my students to participate. Unfortunately, I couldn''t get my best students to join. These six are strong, but the remaining four are... exceptional. It pains me that the audience won''t get to witness their talents." The headmaster regarded her with a measured look before lowering his gaze to another document. "Understandable. You did well to get more than half involved. The real issue is with the Adventurer class¡ªonly four out of ten students are participating? I expected more from them." The man responsible for the Adventurer class was also appearing for the second time in the story. A man in his thirties, he had disheveled blond hair and tired brown eyes with dark circles beneath them, clear signs of sleep deprivation. His clothes¡ªan unkempt mix of brown and yellow¡ªsuggested he had little concern for appearances. He ran a hand through his messy blond hair before responding in a lazy tone, "I didn''t bother convincing them. I simply explained the festival and left them to decide. If there were rewards that interested them, they would''ve joined without hesitation. That being said, two of the four participants are quite strong." The black-haired woman turned to him, her brown eyes sharp. "''Quite strong'' in your terms usually means they''ll be formidable opponents for my students. But you should''ve at least tried to persuade the others. Adventurers are often the most talented ones. The people of this kingdom look forward to seeing their fights the most because they know they surpass students from other divisions in strength." The blond teacher smirked lazily, his voice carrying an air of indifference. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. "You should focus on training your scouts to explore the unknown regions. Lately, explorers have been dying in increasing numbers." A brief silence fell before the woman''s expression darkened, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "At least some of them return alive to tell us what happened. What about adventurers? They leave and never come back." The adventurer teacher''s gaze remained unfazed. "Adventurers are born to be free. For all we know, they might still be alive¡ªsomewhere out in that mysterious world." Before the conversation could escalate further, the headmaster intervened. His voice was steady, final. "Enough. Let''s set this aside for now. Moving on to surprises¡­ The Knight class. Ten out of ten students are participating. How did you manage that, Makoto?" The other two teachers turned toward the third figure in the room¡ªMakoto, a man with silver-gray hair that matched his perfectly tailored suit. His emerald-green eyes remained closed for a moment before he finally opened them, his voice breaking the momentary silence. "The knights are the foundation of this kingdom. Unlike adventurers or scouts, my students are weak. I want them to understand their true standing. Suffering a crushing defeat is the first step toward self-improvement and progress." A stunned expression crossed the black-haired woman''s face. Her brown eyes widened as she stammered, "Wait, are you saying...?" The headmaster finished her sentence. "You forced them all to participate? Makoto, you know that''s unacceptable. My policy is to allow students freedom in their choices." Makoto didn''t hesitate with his reply. "I don''t plan on forcing them in future years, but this year is an exception. With all due respect, Headmaster, I ask that you not interfere in how I train my students. This festival, which you created for entertainment, I will use as a means to refine them. If you have any objections, speak now, because I won''t break your rules once they''re set." A silence hung in the air before the headmaster finally broke into a small smile. "Very well. While I prefer to uphold the students'' freedom, your method may prove effective as well. Now, tell me¡ªdo you have any particularly noteworthy students?" At this, Makoto shifted his gaze toward the two other teachers standing beside him. Without speaking, he merely stared at them until the black-haired woman sighed. "Fine, fine. No need to look at us like that. We''ll leave." The blond teacher ruffled his already messy hair, giving Makoto a silent look before heading toward the door. Once the two left, the room fell quiet, save for the soft hum of the Menma particles drifting in the air. The door clicked shut, and Makoto finally spoke. "There are three students I believe will steal the spotlight." The headmaster intertwined his fingers, leaning forward with interest. "First, Fayrouz. She has the ability to manipulate the particles that make up any substance. She can even cause tremors with her power. Additionally, she possesses the rare ability to detect and track Menma cells." The headmaster''s eyes widened slightly. "That... was unexpected. What is her lineage?" Makoto exhaled. "Unknown. I asked her once last month, but she remained silent. I won''t pry into her family issues." The headmaster nodded. "What matters is the student, not their origin. That is one of my policies." Makoto smirked slightly. "Your policies¡ªwill they lead this academy to greatness or ruin? I still can''t tell." The headmaster chuckled. "You''ll see the results with your own eyes during the festival." Ignoring the remark, Makoto continued, "Second, Fulan. He possesses the ability of a rare beast¡ªpossibly not even his original power. It''s the ability of the White Tiger." The headmaster''s brow furrowed. "Did you just say White Tiger? That''s unusual. I''ve never heard of a human wielding a beast''s power¡ªexcept for one person." Makoto''s lips curled into a knowing smile, making the headmaster raise an eyebrow before mirroring the expression. "I see¡­ You''re thinking what I''m thinking." Makoto added, "Lastly, the one who intrigues me most¡ªKazuki. I haven''t seen his ability yet, but his breathing, his composure, his physical condition... Everything about him suggests he has spent his entire life honing himself. Mentally and physically. I''d wager he''s already at the level of a Golden Knight¡ªeven without seeing his ability." The headmaster''s smile widened. "Then perhaps, in a few years, we might see the rise of the tenth Crystal Knight. This festival is shaping up to be quite interesting, despite the low number of participants." Makoto turned to leave. As his hand rested on the door handle, the headmaster spoke one last time. "Makoto, your students sound impressive, but many nobles and prodigies have joined the adventurer and scout divisions. I hope your students don''t suffer too great a shock tomorrow." Makoto opened the door, stepping out as he uttered his final words. "That''s exactly what I want them to experience." ----- You Can Always Read More Chapters while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon Chapter 42 – The Grand Arena Awakens Chapter 42 ¨C The Grand Arena Awakens. The sky above the capital of Saita, Rona, stretched in a vast expanse of pale blue. Despite the crisp December air carrying a faint chill, the sun shone brightly, casting a gentle warmth that did not burn. Wisps of white clouds drifted lazily across the sky, painting slow-moving shadows over the towering structures of the kingdom. But the serenity shattered in an instant. A wave of cheers erupted, breaking the tranquil sky as thousands of voices roared in excitement. The festival had begun. The grand arena stood as a marvel of architecture¡ªan enormous circular colosseum of gray stone and reinforced wood, its craftsmanship surpassing even the legendary Colosseum of ancient times. The stone carried a timeless, unyielding presence, while the wooden beams¡ªhardened by Menma particles¡ªheld a resilience nearly equal to rock itself. Every arch and pillar spoke of history, strength, and a past lined with both glory and blood. The seats, towering in steep rows, were packed with spectators from every corner of the kingdom. Merchants, nobles, commoners, and travelers alike had gathered in Rona, drawn by the promise of the second Talent Festival. Those who had missed the first festival had deeply regretted it, and as soon as word spread about its return, they flooded the capital in numbers so overwhelming that tickets nearly sold out. Even now, hundreds more hurried towards the colosseum, desperate to claim a seat before the grand event commenced. The air was thick with a medley of scents¡ªfreshly baked bread, roasted meat, and sweetened fruit wafted from food stalls positioned just outside the arena. The chatter of the crowd blended with the rhythmic stomp of feet on stone, as vendors navigated between excited groups, selling snacks and souvenirs. Surrounding the colosseum was a breathtaking natural border¡ªmassive trees with thick canopies towered around the structure, their leaves rustling softly as the breeze carried the refreshing scent of wood and earth. The arena itself was nestled within Rona''s forested park, an environment rich in Menma particles, infusing the air with an almost electric vibrancy. Beyond its use for the festival, this arena held many purposes. It had witnessed countless duels, seen knights battle for honor, served as a stage for promotion trials, and, in darker times, acted as the site for public punishments¡ªharsh but effective, these spectacles played a key role in maintaining Saita''s ironclad security. This was the dual nature of the colosseum: a place of both celebration and judgment. The ground of the arena was a marvel in itself, composed of polished gray stone that shifted in color under different lights. In the golden glow of the sun, the surface reflected a muted yellow hue. Under the silver touch of the moon, it gleamed with a spectral sheen, almost ethereal in its beauty. Meanwhile, outside the colosseum, the roads leading toward it buzzed with movement. Streams of people approached on foot, their voices merging into a constant hum of anticipation. Others arrived in wooden carriages pulled by sturdy horses, the wheels crunching against the dirt paths that wove through the sprawling forests. A long queue stretched outside the ticket booth, constantly shifting as people entered and exited with hurried steps. "Two tickets¡ªone for me and one for my son, please," said a man, leaning slightly toward the small window of the booth. The ticket vendor, an elderly man with a neatly trimmed gray beard, nodded and slid the tickets across the counter. "That''ll be thirty Diamo." His voice was steady, accustomed to the relentless crowd. Diamo, the standard currency of Saita, was widely accepted across the kingdom and its neighboring villages. However, beyond Saita''s borders, its value was nonexistent. In other lands, only copper, silver, and gold coins held universal worth, serving as the primary trade currency in the greater unknown world. Just beyond the ticket booths, dozens of merchants had set up makeshift stalls, capitalizing on the festival''s popularity. Their voices rang out as they advertised an array of goods¡ªjewelry, charms, and, most notably, themed apparel marking the event. "Kits of popcorn and two apple juices, please!" A young boy eagerly handed over his coins at one of the wooden stalls. The vendor, a broad-shouldered man with rolled-up sleeves, grinned as he passed the food over. "Here you go! Just twenty Diamo." Among the most popular items for sale were the event shirts¡ªeach color-coded to represent the different academy divisions. A white shirt for Knights. A green shirt for Adventurers. A yellow shirt for the Exploration Corps. On the back of each shirt, elegant lettering displayed the division''s name, accompanied by a distinct emblem representing its spirit. These same shirts would be worn by every participating student during the festival, replacing their usual academy uniforms for the day. But within the heart of the arena, beneath the grandstands where the crowd''s cheers seeped through the stone walls, a particular room held a different kind of tension. Inside the knights'' preparation chamber, a group of students sat on sturdy wooden benches, their backs pressed against the cool stone walls. Others stood, arms crossed, gazes fixed on the ceiling or the floor, awaiting the signal that would send them into the grand stage above. All were dressed in black trousers and crisp white shirts, the word "Knights" emblazoned across their backs in elegant script. A silver sword motif sliced through the lettering, symbolizing their division''s pride. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. The distant roar of the audience was impossible to ignore. It filtered through the walls, a steady reminder that soon, they would step into the colosseum, their every move observed by thousands. The weight of anticipation filled the air, thick and unspoken. The tension was almost suffocating, wrapping itself around the room like an invisible force. Though the students of the Knight Division remained seated or standing in silence, their emotions told a different story. Breaking the stillness, a soft yet composed voice spoke. "The girls'' shirts seem looser than the boys''. Whose idea was this?" Mizayani, the girl with soft pink hair tied back by a red headband, leaned slightly forward. Her calm blue eyes studied the fabric as she tugged at the hem of her white shirt, waiting for a response. A moment of quiet passed. Then, a voice just as steady answered. "It was the headmaster''s decision. Unlike other men, he has a refined sense of elegance. It''s rare to find someone like him." The speaker was Fayrouz. Long black hair cascaded down her back, fading into streaks of blue at the tips. Her sapphire eyes remained serene, her pale fingers absently rolling a small silver ring between them. No one replied after that. Perhaps it was because her answer was logical, leaving no room for argument. Or perhaps¡­ there was another reason. And if there was, it was undoubtedly the tension in the air. Unlike the Adventurer and Exploration Corps classes, the Knight Division had no illusions about their standing. They knew they were weaker. And strangely enough, that doubt only grew stronger the moment they heard the deafening cheers from the crowd above. Some students¡ªlike Mizuhara, the brown-haired girl who could vanish into thin air, and Hikari, the dark-gray-haired boy capable of exhaling thick smoke¡ªbegan wishing they had declined participation. The class was divided into three types. First, those who had been shaken by the sound of the audience, their nerves twisting into unease. Second, those whose excitement only intensified because of it. Among them were the two brothers¡ªShinsu, the older, bulkier one, and Yuta, the younger, shorter one¡ªboth nearly bald, their grins wide with anticipation. And finally, those who remained composed, unaffected. Fayrouz, absentmindedly toying with her blue-silver ring. Kazuki, half-asleep with his head resting against the table, his tousled gray hair blending light and dark strands. Fulan, his dark eyes unreadable as he let out a quiet yawn. And Mizayani, brushing a hand through her soft pink locks, ensuring her appearance was flawless before the event began. Then, a voice cut through the stillness¡ªfilled with irritation and arrogance. "Ugh. This is so boring. Am I supposed to sit here forever?" Asahi Lioren, the white-haired, silver-eyed boy, stood from his seat, his steps echoing as he strode toward the door. Without hesitation, he swung it open¡ªonly to halt abruptly. Standing just outside was their instructor, Makoto. The moment Asahi saw the gray-haired man, dressed in his usual refined suit, his sharp green eyes locking onto him, he paused. The rest of the students turned their attention toward the doorway as well. Makoto''s presence meant only one thing¡ªthe event was about to begin. "The knights must be the most disciplined participants in this festival," Makoto said evenly. "Asahi, you especially. Don''t do anything reckless today." A confident smirk tugged at Asahi''s lips. His voice, brimming with arrogance, responded almost immediately. "Sensei, you do realize that you''re not our teacher today, right? This isn''t the academy. Spare me the boring knightly lectures." He turned slightly, casting a glance back at his classmates. "Today is a celebration. And I plan to enjoy it by crushing those arrogant bastards from the other divisions." The meaning behind his words was clear¡ªhe was referring to the Adventurers and the Exploration Corps. His silver eyes gleamed as he continued, addressing his fellow knights. "Don''t you all agree? Those fools are so full of themselves, they didn''t even bother showing up. Sixty percent of the Adventurers refused to participate. Forty percent of the Exploration Corps turned it down as well. But us? We came here in full numbers. Do you get it? They''re basically saying that fighting us isn''t worth their time." His smirk deepened as he clenched his fist, raising it confidently. "I''m going to shatter that arrogance with my own hands. I''ll win this ridiculous festival!" His words struck deep into those who had been feeling uneasy. And before the silence could settle, Mizayani seized the moment. A bright smile lit up her face as she clenched her own fist. "That''s the spirit, you idiot, Asahi!" His silver eyes flicked toward her, narrowing. "Who are you calling an idiot, princess?" She ignored him, her expression turning toward the rest of the class as she declared, "Our goal should be simple¡ªcrush the other divisions! If we do that, we might actually make Makoto-sensei take back what he said about us being the weakest class in the academy!" A beat of silence followed. But this time, it was not the silence of anxiety. It was the silence of quiet determination. Then¡ª A loud explosion rang through the air. Vibrant orbs of Menma light burst across the sky in dazzling colors, marking the official start of the Talent Festival. Their glow reflected off the arena''s stone walls, illuminating the sea of spectators. And then, a powerful voice¡ªbooming and electrifying¡ªshook the colosseum itself. "Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for keeping you waiting! Now, let me hear you! Are you ready?!" "YEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" The response was deafening. The crowd''s roar surged into the sky, so powerful that the birds nesting in the trees around the arena took flight in panic. Even deep within the city, amidst the classic stone streets and towering buildings, people stopped in their tracks. Heads tilted upward, smiles forming on their lips as they whispered to one another. "It looks like the festival has begun." Back inside the preparation room, Makoto''s cool green eyes surveyed his students. Then, with a slow turn, he said, "Well then¡­ I just hope you don''t feel powerless after the first round. Let''s go." The knights began moving forward, their steps steady, the light from the hallway casting elongated shadows behind them. Fulan remained still for a moment, watching them. His black, unruly hair fell over his dark eyes as he observed the scene before him¡ªthe students marching toward the entrance, the glow of the open doorway waiting beyond. His gaze lingered on them for a brief moment before he finally stepped forward, thoughts stirring in his mind. I never expected an event like this to exist in Saita¡­ Winning this festival could give me an incredible amount of credibility. I might even get the chance to meet the king before graduation. And even if that doesn''t happen, at the very least¡ª I''ll make a name for myself. One that reaches the royal palace itself. A faint smirk crossed his lips. I''ll do it. I''ll become an assassin for them. With that final thought, Fulan took a firm step forward, following the rest of the knights into the light. ----- Here we go... You Can Always Read More Chapters while Supporting Your Author Here-on-Patreon