While his peers were still struggling to grasp the basics of swordsmanship, Luciel had already mastered the fourth realm—an achievement that placed him far ahead of others. He had just defeated Windsor, a seasoned magician, in a direct confrontation—an outcome nothing short of miraculous.
This battle would go down in history as a textbook encounter: the knight overcoming the mage, the weak triumphing over the strong.
"Orland has the first-ranked student in the fifth grade!"
A voice rang out from the crowd, affirming Luciel's reputation.
Even Windsor couldn't stand against him. Luciel was now indisputably the most outstanding student of the fifth grade, earning fame across both academies.
"Luciel. Lanster!"
Windsor stared at Luciel intently, her eyes harboring a strange, unspoken emotion.
"I'll remember you… and one day, I'll take back my victory," she said softly. Without another word, she turned and left the stage.
The rest of the competition lost its meaning. With that, the exchange match came to a close.
After Principal Bridges delivered a closing summary, Luciel, like the others, prepared to leave—only to be stopped by Julian.
"President Browning wants to see you."
Luciel paused, surprised, but nodded and obediently followed Julian to the dean's office. At the door, Julian gestured for Luciel to go in alone.
Inside, the tall, slender old man in gray who had been observing the matches from the stage sat calmly on a chair. Upon seeing Luciel, his eyes lit up with interest.
"You've come," Browning said, smiling and motioning for him to sit.
Luciel couldn't help but ask, "Dean, may I ask why you summoned me…?"
Before he could finish, the atmosphere in the room shifted drastically. Browning's demeanor transformed—his presence suddenly felt like a mountain crashing down on Luciel, pressing him nearly to the floor.
What is this?!
Luciel's mind raced. Is he testing me?!
The pressure was overwhelming. Browning remained seated, smiling serenely, but the weight on Luciel's body intensified.
Luciel struggled to remain upright. His bones cracked under the pressure, and he finally dropped to one knee, his face contorted with effort.
"Roar—!"
He let out a low growl, trying to endure. This was even more punishing than the five-times gravity chamber.
Then, just as he was about to collapse, the pressure vanished.
Luciel gasped for air and slumped onto the sofa, drenched in sweat. He looked at Browning with a mixture of awe and confusion.
But Browning only looked puzzled.
"Hmm… not an extraordinary bloodline? Strange…"
Luciel blinked in surprise. "Extraordinary… bloodline?"
Browning shook his head. "I suspected you had one, so I tested you. But it seems I was wrong. Or perhaps… I failed to detect it. Don't look so shocked. From a first-level apprentice knight to the ninth level in just a few months—mastering fourth-level swordsmanship at your age—anyone would think you're gifted with a rare bloodline."
Luciel was silent for a moment. "What exactly is an extraordinary bloodline?"
"People blessed by the gods—or whose ancestors were—are sometimes born with what we call 'extraordinary bloodlines,'" Browning explained. "They possess talents and powers far beyond the ordinary. While most people train all their lives to barely scratch the surface, these individuals soar with minimal effort. Extraordinary bloodlines are classified as Bronze, Silver, or Gold. Gold, in particular, is known as the King's Bloodline. It's said there are even higher ranks, but I've never seen one."
Luciel felt his mind reel. A whole new world had just been revealed.
Seeing Luciel stunned, Browning chuckled. "Don't get too caught up in it. Maybe you'll never touch that realm. But if you do reach a certain height… even without me explaining, you'll come to understand these things."
He leaned back and continued, "But that's not the main reason I called you here."
Luciel refocused. "Then why?"
Browning took out a gleaming golden badge—it was the perfect evaluation medal Luciel had earned in the Knights Tower.
"You earned a perfect score. That deserves a reward."
He sighed. "I thought I might take you on as a disciple if you had an extraordinary bloodline. But since that seems unlikely, I'll compensate you instead."
With a wave of his hand, three items appeared: a parchment filled with writing, a magic crystal, and a brilliant longsword with a cold gleam.
"This," Browning said, pointing to the parchment, "is a recommendation letter for the Royal Knights Academy. If you pass their entrance exam, this letter will help immensely. If you don't, well… it's just fancy paper."
He then pointed to the magic crystal. "This holds a high-level combat technique."
Luciel's heart trembled slightly. Julian had mentioned the Royal Knights Academy before, so that wasn't shocking—but a high-level combat skill? That was unexpected.
Finally, Browning gestured to the sword. "Forged by a dwarven master craftsman. Excellent quality. It's from my personal collection. You'll be the first to wield it."
Luciel's eyes lit up. Each of these rewards was immensely valuable. He bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Dean."
Browning smiled. "No need to thank me. You earned it. That victory against Windsor was spectacular. Even if you aren't disciple material, you've achieved more at sixteen than most could dream of."
Unbeknownst to Browning, Luciel had been training in the Huazhe Cross Sword—a mid-level sword technique disguised as a basic one. Had Browning known this, he'd be even more astonished.
"Oh, one more thing," Browning said suddenly. "You're about to awaken your grudge, right?"
Luciel nodded. "It's close."
Browning's expression turned serious. "Then listen carefully. Before you advance to knight rank, focus on enhancing your physique as much as possible. It will benefit you in the long run—especially during the assessments at the Royal Knights Academy."
Luciel was surprised. Shouldn't I be focusing on igniting my grudge now?
Still, he nodded silently.
Browning waved his hand to dismiss him. Luciel bowed once more and left respectfully.
As he walked out, Luciel frowned. But I could awaken grudge power right now…
Thanks to his unique self-developed mental training methods, he had reached the threshold several times already. Should I really hold back?
But he pushed the question aside for now, too eager to explore his new rewards.
First was the high-level combat technique. He poured his spiritual energy into the magical recording crystal.
A name emerged, glowing within his mind: White Crow Swordsmanship.
As Luciel stared at the words "White Crow Swordsmanship," he felt something stir deep inside him—not just anticipation, but a sense of destiny. For the first time, the path ahead didn't feel like a climb—it felt like a calling. Whether or not he bore an extraordinary bloodline no longer mattered. If others were born to greatness, he would forge his own with each swing of the blade.
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