Chapter 2: The Academy of Gilded Fates
The Royal Aethelgard Academy was a fortress of white marble and gold, designed to look like a paradise for the continent's elite. To the "Sovereign" who wrote this world, it was the ultimate stage—the place where the Hero, Kyle, would rise from a common-born scholarship student to a legend, while the villainous Alaric von Ravenstone served as his stepping stone.
As the Ravenstone carriage, pulled by six black horses with manes of enchanted smoke, rolled through the gates, Alaric watched the crowds of students part like the Red Sea.
"Look, it's the 'Paper Duke,'" a whisper drifted through the window.
"He looks paler than usual. I bet he won't even pass the mana-resonance test."
Alaric leaned back against the silk cushions. In the original novel, he would have been fuming, his face red with a combination of shame and arrogance. He would have emerged from the carriage screaming at the commoners to lower their eyes.
Instead, the door opened, and Alaric stepped out with a grace that silenced the entire courtyard.
His 99 Charm was no longer a dormant stat; it was a physical law. Every movement was calculated, every glance possessed a lethal elegance. The students who were laughing a moment ago suddenly found themselves holding their breath. It wasn't just beauty; it was the aura of a predator wearing a tailor-made suit.
[ LOCATION: THE TESTING ARENA ]
The first day of the Academy was simple: The Mana Resonance Test and the Duel of Assessment.
Standing in the center of the arena was a massive crystal monolith—the Sovereign's Eye. It measured a student's potential and assigned them a rank from F to S.
"Next," the proctor shouted, his voice amplified by magic. "Kyle of Eastwood."
The crowd erupted. Kyle, the protagonist, walked forward with a determined look on his face. He was handsome in a rugged, 'boy-next-door' way. He placed his hand on the crystal. It glowed with a blinding, righteous gold light.
"Rank: S!" the proctor screamed. "Incredible! A commoner with S-rank mana!"
Kyle turned, his eyes catching Alaric's in the crowd. In the script, this was the moment Alaric was supposed to feel a crushing sense of inferiority. Kyle was meant to give him a pitying smile, triggering Alaric's first public outburst.
Alaric simply blinked.
[ Skill Detected: Mana Sensory ]
[ Proficiency: MAX ]
[ Skill Evolved: Eye of the Origin ]
Through his new eyes, Alaric didn't see a "Hero." He saw a puppet. He could see the literal golden threads of the "Script" tethered to Kyle's heart, feeding him mana from the world itself. Kyle wasn't strong; he was being subsidized.
"Next," the proctor called out, his tone turning cold. "Alaric von Ravenstone."
A hush fell. This was the comedy portion of the afternoon. Everyone knew the Duke's son had a mana-void constitution.
Alaric walked toward the monolith. As he approached, he felt the air grow heavy. The "Sovereign" was watching. The Script demanded a failure. It demanded that the crystal remain dark, proving Alaric's worthlessness.
Alaric placed his hand on the cold surface.
'You want me to have no mana?' Alaric thought, a cold smirk touching his lips. 'Fine. I'll give you something else.'
He didn't release mana. He used Celestial Mana Sovereignty to reach into the very air around the crystal and command the world's energy to condense.
CRACK.
A spiderweb of fractures raced across the indestructible monolith. Instead of a golden glow, a violent, terrifying violet light erupted from the center. It wasn't the light of "potential"—it was the light of a black hole.
The crystal shrieked.
[ WARNING: SCRIPT INTEGRITY COMPROMISED ]
[ CALIBRATING POWER SCALE... ]
[ RESULT: BEYOND MEASUREMENT ]
The monolith exploded. Shards of enchanted glass whistled through the air, embedded in the stone walls. The proctor fell over his desk, and Kyle took a defensive stance, his face pale.
Alaric stood in the dust, his hand still raised in the air where the crystal used to be. He looked at the proctor.
"Does that count as a pass?" Alaric asked smoothly.
[ THE DUEL OF ASSESSMENT ]
The faculty, desperate to restore order, moved quickly to the duels. They needed to prove that the "glitch" with the crystal was just a fluke.
"The final match of the day," the proctor announced, his voice trembling. "Kyle of Eastwood vs. Alaric von Ravenstone."
This was the climax of Chapter 1 in the original book. Kyle was supposed to win using a "hidden technique" he discovered in the library, humiliate Alaric, and win the heart of the First Princess, Elena, who was watching from the Royal Box.
Princess Elena sat in the high stands, her eyes cold. She was Alaric's fiancée by political arrangement, and she loathed him. She was waiting for Kyle to win so she could use the defeat as an excuse to break the engagement.
Alaric stepped onto the sands of the arena, holding a standard wooden practice sword. Kyle stood opposite him, gripping his own blade with white knuckles.
"Lord Alaric," Kyle said, his voice brimming with protagonist-energy. "I don't know what you did to that crystal, but true strength comes from the heart and hard work. I won't lose to someone who treats life as a game."
"Is that so?" Alaric replied. He didn't even take a stance. He just stood there, his sword hanging loosely at his side. "Then show me your 'hard work,' Hero."
Kyle lunged. He moved with the speed of a Gale-Wolf, his blade glowing with the golden light of the "Sovereign's" favor. It was a perfect strike. To any normal student, it was unavoidable.
[ Skill Detected: Peerless Reaction ]
[ Proficiency: MAX ]
[ Skill Evolved: God-Speed Perception ]
To Alaric, Kyle was moving through molasses. He could see the sweat on Kyle's brow, the slight tremor in his grip, and the exact moment the "Script" tried to nudge Kyle's sword toward Alaric's shoulder.
Alaric didn't parry. He didn't even move his feet.
He tilted his head by exactly one inch.
The golden blade whistled past his ear, cutting only a single strand of black hair.
"Too slow," Alaric whispered.
He tapped the pommel of his wooden sword against Kyle's solar plexus. It looked like a gentle touch, but with Max Strength, it was like being hit by a runaway carriage.
Kyle gasped, the air leaving his lungs in a violent burst. He stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock. This wasn't in the script. He was the Hero! He was supposed to be untouchable!
"Again," Alaric commanded.
For the next ten minutes, the arena was silent except for the sound of Kyle's desperate screams. He unleashed every "hidden technique" he had. He moved like a blur, he used mana-bursts, he tried to feint.
And Alaric? Alaric didn't move from his starting spot. He dodged every strike with the casual boredom of a man swatting a fly. He dismantled Kyle's dignity with every flick of his wrist.
Finally, Alaric grew bored. As Kyle swung for a final, desperate overhead strike, Alaric stepped in close. He caught the wooden blade with two fingers.
[ UNIQUE SKILL: UNIVERSAL APEX MASTERY ]
[ Skill Copying: Hero's 'Heaven-Splitting Slash' ]
[ Proficiency: MAX ]
"You call this a Heaven-Splitting Slash?" Alaric asked, his eyes flashing violet. "Let me show you how it's actually done."
Alaric swung his wooden practice sword—a mere piece of oak.
He didn't hit Kyle. He swung at the air above Kyle's head.
BOOM.
A shockwave of pure, compressed mana tore through the arena. The clouds in the sky above the academy were literally split in two, revealing the stars in broad daylight. The wind pressure sent Kyle tumbling across the sand like a ragdoll until he slammed into the far wall, unconscious.
The wooden sword in Alaric's hand turned to dust, unable to handle the friction of the move.
Alaric looked up at the Royal Box. Princess Elena had stood up, her cold mask shattered. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure the guards could hear it. For the first time in her life, she wasn't looking at the "Hero" with admiration. She was looking at the "Villain" with terror... and an unwanted, burning curiosity.
Alaric brushed the dust off his shoulder and looked at the sky.
[ STATUS UPDATE ]
[ Current Fate: 12% Diverged ]
[ Warning: The Sovereign is attempting to intervene. ]
"Let them try," Alaric said to the empty air.