The Grand Hall
The Academy's Great Hall hummed with nervous energy as the new students gathered beneath the vaulted arches. Cedric stood at Aveline's side, his gaze sweeping over the assembled nobles, commoners, and heirs of the great houses. The air smelled of polished stone and the faint metallic tang of magic.
At the front of the hall, a figure stepped onto the dais—an old man in flowing silver robes, his white beard nearly brushing the floor. His walking stick tapped against the marble as he moved, the sound echoing like a clock's pendulum.
Cedric's breath caught.
The KA Wizard.
Aveline stiffened beside him. "That's the Headmaster?"
The old man's eyes—still as clear and piercing as they had been seven years ago—locked onto Cedric for the briefest moment before sweeping over the crowd.
"Welcome," he said, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. "I am Headmaster Orlan, though some call me the KA Wizard." His lips quirked. "A title I neither confirm nor deny."
Murmurs rippled through the students. Cedric's mind raced. He knew. He knew I'd be here.
The Trial Begins
The Headmaster raised his staff, and the air before him ripped open—a jagged tear in reality itself, swirling with violet energy. Beyond it lay a twisted landscape of jagged cliffs and unnatural fog.
"This is a man-made rift," Orlan announced. "Populated by creatures designed to test your strength, wit, and resolve. You will enter in groups. Your performance will determine your placement within the Academy."
A hush fell.
Then—
"Any who wish to leave may do so now," the Headmaster added, his tone mild. "There will be no shame in it. Only wisdom."
No one moved.
Orlan smiled. "Excellent. Then let the trial begin."
Into the Abyss
Cedric's group—Aveline, Vivienne, Kyle Blackwood, and Luna Thorntorn—stepped through the rift. The air on the other side was thick and stale, the sky a sickly shade of green.
"Charming," Vivienne muttered, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves.
A distant screech echoed through the canyon.
"Weapons," Aveline snapped, her sword already in hand.
Cedric reached into his spatial cloak, his fingers closing around the familiar weight of his spear and sword. The others followed suit—Kyle's daggers flashing into existence, Luna hefting a massive shield, Vivienne spinning a delicate-looking but undoubtedly deadly fan.
Then the ground trembled.
From the cliffs above, things began to crawl downward—twisted hybrids of flesh and shadow, their violet eyes glowing with the same unnatural light as the mutated monsters from Cedric's past.
"Well," Kyle said dryly, "this should be fun."
The first monster lunged.
The moment Cedric drew his spear and sword from his spatial cloak, the rift echoed with laughter.
"Look at this peasant trying to play warrior!" sneered a noble-born student, twirling his jeweled rapier.
"Two weapons? Does he think he's some legendary hero?" another mocked, adjusting his pristine mage robes.
Even among his own group, the reaction was mixed. Kyle Blackwood smirked, flipping a dagger lazily in his hand. "You planning to cook kebabs mid-battle or actually fight?"
Luna Thorntorn, ever practical, frowned. "That's... not standard combat doctrine."
Only Vivienne Stirling stepped forward, her crimson skirts swishing as she positioned herself beside Cedric. "Oh, do shut up, all of you," she said sweetly, her emerald eyes glinting with danger. "At least he's original. The rest of you fight like you're reading from the same dull manual."
Aveline shot Vivienne a sharp look but said nothing—though her grip tightened on her sword.
From the observation platform above, Instructor Zatch—a battle-scarred veteran with no patience for noble pretenses—leaned forward. His trained eyes immediately recognized the modified spear (shorter haft, reinforced grip) and the balanced short sword (curved for fluid transitions).
"That's no amateur's mistake," he thought, suppressing a grin. "Those are purpose-built."
The First Attack
The rift trembled as three Riftborn Stalkers emerged from the jagged cliffs, their spindly limbs clicking against the stone.
"Finally, some fun," Vivienne purred, snapping open her enchanted fan.
The monsters lunged—
—and Cedric moved.
The Art of Two Blades
The Deflection
The first Stalker's claws raked toward his throat.
His spear intercepted mid-swing, redirecting the force—
His sword flashed upward, severing the creature's arm at the elbow.
The Pivot
The second Stalker attacked from behind.
Cedric planted his spear and spun, using it as an anchor—
His sword carved through the monster's ribs as he whirled past.
The Execution
The third Stalker hesitated, its violet eyes widening.
Cedric's spear shot forward like a bolt, impaling its chest—
Before the body hit the ground, his sword removed its head.
Silence.
Three monsters. Six seconds.
Not a single wasted motion.
The Aftermath
Kyle Blackwood's dagger slipped from his fingers. "You've got to be joking."
Luna Thorntorn's shield lowered slightly. "That... shouldn't work."
Even Aveline's stern expression flickered with something like pride—quickly masked by a scoff. "Took you long enough to stop playing around."
Vivienne clapped her hands, delighted. "Bravo! Now that's what I call a performance." She shot a pointed look at the stunned nobles. "Anyone else want to critique his technique?"
No one did.
Instructor Zatch's Verdict
High above, Zatch scratched a note onto his evaluation scroll:
"Leonheart's 'attendant' fights like a man who's faced death before. Observe closely—he's holding back."
He then added, just for himself:
"Finally, something interesting."
The Trial Continues
As the group advanced, the terrain grew more treacherous—narrow ledges, unstable ground, and the ever-present glow of violet eyes in the shadows.
Cedric fought at the front, his dual weapons a seamless extension of his will:
Spear controlling the battlefield's rhythm
Sword striking with surgical precision
Every step calculated, every motion fluid
The laughter had died.
Now, even the monsters seemed to think twice before engaging him.