Outside the tower in White Moon Valley,
As the exam continued.
Every so often, a rune would flash across one of the tower's levels. When it did, a figure would be expelled, appearing abruptly at the tower's entrance in a burst of light.
By now, nearly half of the five thousand participants had completed their trials.
Among them, one hundred had cleared the eighth floor.
More than five hundred reached the seventh.
Only ten had failed outright.
The rest passed.
It had been nearly an entire day. The black sky was beginning to pale, the first hints of dawn bleeding across the horizon.
Assistant examiners worked efficiently. One recorded results on a floating tablet, carefully noting each participant's highest cleared floor. Others tended to the injured, administering pills and treatments without delay.
The danger inside the tower had proven very real.
Bones were broken. Meridians strained. Soul seas pushed to their limits.
Yet, astonishingly, there had been no deaths so far.
Just as promised.
At the Royal Academy courtyard, dawn arrived quietly.
An elder appeared without warning, standing at the center with his hands clasped behind his back. He wore pristine white robes, a single pair of wings embroidered on the left side of his chest.
"I am Elder Scott," he said.
His gaze swept across the assembled youths.
"Form a single file," he ordered, his voice sharp and absolute. "Follow me."
No one dared hesitate.
The group moved out behind him, passing through the academy grounds. Buildings of varying shapes and sizes lined the path, some ancient and solemn, others sleek and modern.
Eventually, they arrived before a massive structure resembling a colosseum.
They entered.
Inside was a grand arena, vast and imposing. Elder Scott led them to one side, where three others were already waiting.
All were outer elders.
Two men and one woman.
The woman wore flowing purple robes and leaned lightly on a staff shaped like green bamboo. One man was built like an iron tower, a massive great sword strapped across his back, his presence heavy and overwhelming, like a mountain bear waiting to strike. The last wore black leather, crimson daggers gleaming at his waist, his aura sharp and predatory.
Each had around a hundred students behind them.
They exchanged nods of greeting.
Only then did the students notice the stands.
Several figures were already seated there, dressed in various styles, sipping wine and enjoying refreshments as though watching a performance.
An elder in red robes stepped onto the arena floor.
Two pairs of wings glinted on his chest.
He began circulating his qi.
The air rippled.
Pressure surged outward as he slammed his palm, blazing with fire-aspected true qi, into the arena floor. Runic patterns flared to life, intricate and vast, spreading outward before lifting into the air.
They rearranged themselves into a staircase.
One hundred steps.
Before anyone could react, another elder entered the arena, holding a brown wooden box etched with complex markings. He formed a series of intricate hand seals.
Four towering violet pillars erupted from the arena's edges.
A translucent barrier sealed the space.
The elder with the box turned to the youths below and cleared his throat.
The murmurs died instantly.
"Welcome to the Royal Academy," he said. "From the moment you registered, you became outer disciples."
His gaze sharpened.
"Among you are seeded candidates for the inner academy. Some of you already know what this ceremony entails. For those who do not, listen carefully."
He explained calmly.
This ceremony existed so teachers could select disciples. Each elder would take those they deemed worthy under their wing, guiding them on the path of cultivation.
The Academic Federation consisted of seven primary branches, each with its own department within the academy. Graduates served across countless fields, from the military to research, alchemy, and healing.
The war against the beasts never ended.
What the Federation needed were experts and leaders.
After the ceremony, all students would report to the Resource Management Department to receive their basic supplies.
He continued for nearly ten minutes, detailing departments, discipleship, and the distinction between elder disciples and ordinary students.
Then his tone hardened.
"Outer disciples who fail to reach the Grandmaster Realm within three years will be expelled. Background is irrelevant."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"Disciples of the inner academy," he continued, "must break through to the King Realm within five years. Failure will also result in expulsion. No exceptions."
A hushed voice spoke up.
"That's not fair… how can anyone become a King in just five years?"
The elder's gaze snapped toward the speaker.
Pressure descended.
The boy nearly collapsed, his knees trembling under the formless weight bearing down on him.
The elder's faint smile vanished, replaced by a cold smirk.
"Repeat that," he said.
The boy bowed deeply, panic etched across his face. "I—I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
"Repeat it."
Heart pounding, the boy asked again, voice shaking.
The elder scanned the crowd.
"Are you a seeded candidate for the inner academy?" he asked.
The boy nodded weakly.
The elder's voice carried across the arena.
"Do you think life itself is fair?"
Silence.
"Those born into privilege receive endless resources. Even mediocre talent can be pushed into kingship through sheer accumulation."
His eyes burned.
"And what of those born with nothing? Those who fight just to survive? Most die before ever reaching adulthood."
He gestured outward.
"The world on the outside is ruthless. Humans kill humans. Beasts devour the rest. Meanwhile, you live under protection, wrapped in comfort."
His voice turned icy.
"If, after receiving the academy's resources and nurturing that we provide to inner disciples, you still cannot become Kings in five years, then tell me…"
"What are you, if not wastes?"
A suffocating silence followed.
"We do not need wastes," he concluded.
Not a single student dared breathe.
...............