The day of admission was drawing near.
Lucien stood in front of the mirror in his room, wiping the sweat off his forehead. His sword rested against the wall, gleaming faintly in the morning light. The past few weeks had been a blur of training, failures, and progress. And now, the moment he had prepared for was almost here.
"System, open status window."
Name: Lucien GraycliffAge: 17Race: HumanTitle: [Useless Prince]Class: SwordsmanLevel: 8Skills: Blood Vein Slash (Mastered), Shadow Rush (Affinity – 12%)Trait: Phantom EdgeMana: 35/35Stamina: 38/44Status: Alive (Nervous)
Lucien sighed, tapping the window away. Shadow Rush was still only at 12% affinity, which meant he had yet to gain any real control over the technique. It worked occasionally—just a flicker of his figure vanishing and reappearing—but it lacked consistency. With the academy entrance exam coming up, that wasn't enough.
He had to give it everything.
Not just to get admitted—but to prove he was no longer the useless prince people whispered about.
—
That morning, Lucien stood before the grand doors of the King's chamber. They opened slowly, revealing his father seated on his throne. Queen Elizabeth stood nearby, her expression softening at the sight of Lucien in his uniform—dark leather gear stitched with silver linings, clean, humble, but carrying a presence.
"Come."
the King said, voice deep and measured.
Lucien approached with Iris at his side. The Queen immediately stepped forward, placing a warm kiss on each of their foreheads. Lucien blinked at the gesture but allowed it.
"Don't push yourself too hard, my son."
Elizabeth said softly, her eyes filled with worry.
"And write to me often."
Lucien gave a small nod.
"I'll be fine. It's just an exam."
"Still, you'll always be my little boy."
Ran wasn't present—probably training, as always. Anri stood quietly by the wall, hands folded, offering a reassuring smile. Aldric, according to the guards, had gone out into the woods again. Probably chasing another beast to tame or another fight to pick.
"Make me proud."
the King finally said, standing from his throne. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Lucien's shoulder.
"Show them what a Graycliff is made of."
Lucien looked up, eyes steady.
"I will."
—
The royal carriage was waiting outside.
It gleamed in the morning sun, its polished frame pulled by four snow-white horses. Iris and Lucien stepped inside, sitting across from one another. The inside was as elegant as expected—velvet seats, glass windows with gold framing, and the gentle smell of lavender.
The wheels began to roll.
"Excited?"
Iris asked, tilting her head.
Lucien chuckled.
"A bit. And nervous."
"That's normal. But you've trained a lot."
He looked out the window. The trees passed in a blur.
"I still haven't fully grasped Shadow Rush."
"It took me two months to get the hang of my first spell."
She admitted.
"Just don't overthink it. You'll find your own rhythm."
Lucien nodded quietly, then glanced back.
"So… are you finally going to get a boyfriend at the academy?"
Iris blinked, then laughed.
"I already have one."
Lucien leaned forward.
"You what?"
"It's secret. But he's sweet. Not a noble, if you're wondering."
Lucien wasn't surprised. She was charming, smart, and beautiful—it'd be weird not to have someone chasing after her.
"What about you? You gonna start dating now?"
Lucien shrugged.
"If someone catches my eye. But that's not why I'm going."
"Right!"
she said with a knowing nod.
"Ambition first, love later."
The mood quieted for a moment.
"I'm in Class 2-A."
Iris added casually.
"You can start in Class 1 if you want. Less pressure."
Lucien's pride twitched.
"No. I'll aim for Class 3."
She blinked. "That's a bold claim. You do know Class 3 is competitive, right?"
Lucien leaned back with a small smirk.
"Watch me."
She snorted.
"Fine. But if you get dumped in Class 1, I'm telling everyone I don't know you."
—
After several hours, the pristine gates of the academy finally came into view.
Lucien leaned out the window slightly. "Whoa…"
The Pristine Academy was enormous—more a city than a school. Thirty square kilometers of beautifully crafted stone structures, towers rising like spears into the sky, archways carved with runes, and lush greenery neatly lining the roads. A statue of the founding hero, Seraphin, stood tall at the entrance, sword raised toward the heavens.
Students of all ages moved about in groups—some in uniforms, others in armor or robes, practicing spells or duels out in the training fields. Carriages lined the outer ring of the city-like school as families arrived to drop off their heirs.
"This is it."
Iris said, stepping out as the carriage came to a halt.
Lucien followed her, gripping the strap of his bag. Despite himself, nerves coiled in his stomach.
"If I have time, I'll come watch your test."
She said, then patted his shoulder.
"Now go. Show them that big brother energy."
Lucien laughed under his breath and walked forward.
—
The reception area was swarmed with new students. Several knights and professors directed traffic, handing out parchment scrolls, guiding nobles and commoners alike toward the main plaza. A large board displayed the classification tiers:
Class 1: Basic Foundational Training
Class 2: Intermediate Combat and Magic
Class 3: Advanced Course – Only for Exceptional Entrants
Class 4+: Invitation Only – Reserved for elites and prodigies
Lucien eyed Class 3 again. That's where he wanted to be.
A loud voice called out.
"All applicants, proceed to your assigned dueling grounds! The exam begins shortly!"
Lucien adjusted his sword belt, took a deep breath, and followed the crowd.
—
The exam grounds were open-air stone circles with runic boundaries. Lucien stood among nearly a hundred others, mostly teenagers like him—some trembling, others confident, a few cocky.
"Applicant Number 041. Lucien Graycliff."
A voice called from the side.
He stepped forward.
Two instructors waited near the platform. One held a clipboard. The other had a sword strapped to his back.
"Background?"
The clipboard one asked.
Lucien hesitated.
"Prince of Graycliff."
There was a murmur. A few nearby students turned to glance at him.
"...Right. Assessment: Combat proficiency. Instructor Rey will engage you."
Lucien stepped into the ring.
His opponent, Instructor Rey, was a lean man in his thirties. Not bulky, but sharp. Agile. His eyes held no arrogance—only calculation.
"Draw your weapon."
Rey said.
Lucien unsheathed his sword. The cold metal hummed faintly in his grip.
"Begin."
The fight started fast.
Rey darted forward with surprising speed. Lucien barely managed to parry the first strike, sliding back a few feet. He gritted his teeth and dashed in, swinging wide. Rey ducked, countered, and swept low, trying to knock Lucien off his feet.
Lucien rolled, recovering quickly. He waited for the pattern. Rey was quick but disciplined. He wouldn't waste movements.
Then he found it—Rey hesitated ever so slightly after a certain combo.
Lucien narrowed his eyes. He reached into himself, focusing mana through his blade.
"Blood Sword Technique…"
He whispered.
Rey's eyes twitched.
"First Form: Blood Vein Slash!"
Lucien dashed in, his blade glowing faintly red. The slash cracked through the air, forcing Rey to block with both arms. The power sent him skidding back slightly.
There was silence.
The instructors watching from above murmured amongst themselves.
"Enough!"
Rey said, lifting a hand.
"He's passed."
Lucien's chest heaved. His arms shook slightly. But he was still standing.
"Instructor Rey, which class?"
One of the others called.
Rey glanced at Lucien, then smirked slightly.
"Class 3-C. Let's see what he can really do."
—
Later that evening, Iris found him outside the dorms.
"You really did it?"
Lucien grinned.
"Told you I'd make Class 3."
She flicked his forehead.
"Showoff. But I'm proud."
Lucien looked up at the moonlit sky above the academy. This was just the beginning.
And he was ready for everything that came next.
End of Volume-1