Pale morning light filtered through the window, illuminating a scene of organized chaos. Stacks of documents formed precarious towers on every surface, and the sharp, stale scent of spilled coffee hung in the air. Shen Liang awoke with a jolt, his cheek stuck to a contract he'd been signing before oblivion took him. He had collapsed at his desk, the pen still loosely clutched in his hand.
"...What time is it?" he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. He fumbled for his device, the screen blinking to life.
7:12 AM.
His blood ran cold. Eighteen minutes. He had eighteen minutes until his first class at the Spire Nexus Academy, and he looked—and felt—like he'd been through a war. His uniform was crumpled, his mind was still half-trapped in the phantom pains of the virtual trial, and the mountain of corporate work for the Shen Conglomerate remained untouched.
A frantic energy seized him. There was no time to clean, no time to properly prepare. It was a mad dash against the clock.
Shen Liang burst onto the street, the city's morning air sharp in his lungs. With a frantic tap on his system interface, he selected the fastest vehicle option. With a low hum of coalescing energy, a sleek, black motorcycle materialized before him, a helmet resting perfectly on the seat.
No time to waste. He snapped the helmet on, kicked the stand, and twisted the throttle. The engine roared to life, and he shot forward like a bullet, weaving through the early-morning traffic with a desperation fueled by eighteen minutes and a mountain of unfinished Conglomerate work.
His destination loomed in the distance: the awe-inspiring campus of Spire Nexus Academy. The soaring, crystalline spires and floating lecture halls were a testament to its status as the greatest institute of learning in all of Sector A-1, a beacon of the new world built upon the foundations of former China.
The scene was a mirror of his first day, but the reflection was utterly distorted. Then, the whispers had been about "Shen L.," the mysterious new tycoon—a shadow he controlled. Now, as he skidded to a halt at the academy's grand gates, the whispers that rippled through the crowd of students were about him.
Shen Liang. The prodigy. The one who had not just passed, but had perfected all three trials of the Guardian Selection. He cut the engine, and in the sudden silence, he could feel hundreds of eyes upon him. The weight of his new identity was heavier than any helmet.
...
As he walked through the Nexus's opulent, marble-lined hallways, Shen Liang pulled up the academy's community forum. The screen flooded with blogs and headlines, but one name dominated them all: [Shen Liang].
Some users theorized how he'd achieved such strength with a power score that had barely met the entry requirements. Others were less generous, openly accusing him of cheating. A torrent of speculation and scrutiny was laid bare on the glowing system window, each word a tiny weight added to the target on his back.
He finally reached the [Year One Grand Hall].
The vast, beautiful auditorium was packed to the brim, every single seat occupied save for one. A solitary, empty chair waited—a blatant testament to his late arrival. All eyes tracked him as he moved to claim it.
And waiting in the seat beside his was none other than Hua Ruyan. The same woman who had spoken to him before the trials. The Principal of the Guardian Selection itself. The very person he had fought to be chosen to guard was now sitting casually beside him, a calm, unreadable smile on her lips.
The [Grand Halls] were separated into four, one for each year of students. Ironically, the 1st Year Hall was the largest. This wasn't a matter of budget, but a deliberate design of the academy's cruelty. The longer a student remained, the higher their risk of being expelled.
Each year culminated in a brutal examination. Only a fixed number of students were permitted to advance. This merciless system didn't just crush dreams; it jeopardized survival. In a world where strength was the only true currency, to be cast out from the Spire Nexus Academy was to be stripped of your best chance to grow stronger. It was a sentence to a life of vulnerability in a world that showed none.
...
"Student Shen Liang."
The voice cut through the hall's murmur, cold and precise. It came from a middle-aged man in a stark white doctor's gown at the central lectern. Though he couldn't have been over thirty-five, his face was etched with the harsh lines of chronic stress, making him appear worn and severe beyond his years. He didn't raise his voice; he simply smacked the table once, a sound like a gunshot that demanded absolute attention.
The boy instinctively bowed his head, the weight of hundreds of eyes upon him. "...My apologies, Professor," he murmured, the words tasting like ash. The chair croaked in protest as he pulled it out and sank into it, desperately trying to make himself smaller.
The seating arrangement itself was a silent testament to the academy's strange priorities. Unlike the cramped lecture halls of a typical college, the rows here were absurdly spacious. One could almost believe the rumor that you could fit an entire pack of hounds between each student, a design choice that now only magnified Shen Liang's isolated walk of shame.
"Shen Liang, are you alright? You look completely worn out." Hua Ruyan's voice, laced with genuine concern, cut through the tense silence. Every student in their immediate vicinity was now openly staring, their attention split between the infamous prodigy and the Principal who seemed to know him personally.
"...I'm fine, really. Don't worr—"
"LISTEN!"
The command did not just hit their eardrums; it struck the very air. Professor Wan Hao's voice vibrated with tangible force, a wave of power that made the dust motes in the sunbeams shiver and still. In that single word, he demonstrated a depth of power that silenced all whispers and commanded absolute, undivided attention. He was no mere academic; he was a force of nature.
His sharp eyes scanned the room, ensuring not a single soul was distracted, before he continued, his voice now a controlled, resonant baritone that required no further amplification.
"I am Wang Hao. I will be your Magic Theory professor for this entire academic year."