The Identification Ceremony
The Identification Ceremony was said to be held in the Central Building — a place that was towards the East of the West Wing Dormitory — according to the warden.
It took longer than expected. After weaving through narrow corridors and nearly losing my sense of direction more than once, I finally arrived.
The Central Building was huge and imposing. It was a large structure with broad steps leading up to its entrance and tall windows lining the walls.
So this is it.
I took a breath and stepped inside.
The interior reminded me oddly of a bank.
Long counters lined the polished and pristine hall. Magic-imbued crystals were hovering above each desk, and they softly glowed as they processed information. There were new cadets standing in orderly queues, and their voices echoed faintly through the vast space.
I joined the shortest line I could find. My eyes drifted around as I waited.
That was when I saw it.
A student a few counters away had just placed his hand atop the crystal as instructed.
For a brief moment, the light flowed smoothly until the artefact reacted.
Bands of pale light surged outward from the crystal, wrapping around his forearm before sinking into his skin.
“…Arcseal issued,” the official said.
I looked down at my own hand.
So that’s how it works.
The mark that binds you to Saira’Thyvar’s Training Corps.
No, the mark that binds me to this doomed-to-be place.
Haa…
The line advanced in front of me and soon, I was standing in front of the counter.
“Hand,” the official said, not even looking up.
I placed my palm atop the crystal.
It was cold.
Within seconds, the artefact reacted on its own.
Light snapped around my wrist.
It didn’t wrap gently, and latched onto it.
Something burned through my veins. It was sharp and invasive, carving lines into my flesh as a sigil forced itself into place.
It was shaped as a Phoenix — the symbolic entity of Saira’Thyvar.
And just like it had come, it disappeared on my skin, as if it never existed.
If only it didn’t actually exist.
“…Arcseal issued,” the official said, and then added, “Please proceed to the Cadet Administration Hall to receive your Permit, uniform, educational materials and your assigned schedules.”
“...Yes.”
“And, it’ll take a day, but you’ll be able to view your Mana Imprint.”
Mana Imprint?
Ah, right. I had almost forgotten.
I gave him a swift nod and stepped out of the line.
Once the Identification Ceremony concluded, guards stationed along the building directed the cadets towards an adjoining hall. I followed the flow, passing through a short open corridor before arriving at the Administration Hall.
Unlike the Central Building, the Hall was smaller and more compact.
A single guard stood at the entrance.
“Wrist.”
I raised my arm.
His gaze lingered on where my ‘Arcseal’ was for half a second longer than necessary.
A faint pulse of something brushed over my skin.
It was cold like the magic-imbued crystals.
“Verified,” he said.
He reached beneath the counter and placed a rectangular box into my hands.
“The essentials are inside. Uniform sizing is listed on the tag. Try it on in the back.”
I moved aside and opened the box.
Inside were neatly stacked items. There were thin documents bearing my name, a timetable for my class, and a folded tag marked with measurements rather than sizes.
Now that I think of it…
The family butler did take my measurements a week ago.
So this was where they ended up.
I glanced toward the back of the hall.
Uniform racks lined the wall, and each set was arranged neatly. The designs were familiar, thanks to seeing Adelina.
I found the rack matching my measurements and lifted one set free.
I headed into the trial room and slipped it on.
The fit was exact.
The dark navy fabric settled against my lean frame without pulling or slack.
I turned around to the mirror.
There, a very familiarly unfamiliar face looked back.
Dark hair. Black eyes. Pale skin.
There was nothing remarkable about me.
Basic features, but when put together, Eldrinn was quite… solid-looking.
The uniform did more than I expected. Clean lines and firm tailoring accentuated what was already there, and sharpened my silhouette without exaggeration.
As expected of military uniforms.
They had a way of making even ordinary people look composed.
I studied my reflection for a moment longer.
And the longer I did, the more the uniform stopped feeling like clothing and started feeling like a reminder.
Hoo…
I let out another sigh.
No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, my thoughts circled back to the same thing.
I lowered my gaze to where the Arcseal had been branded.
Although it was invisible, I could still feel a weight on my skin.
Three years. That’s how long I was supposed to be at Saira’Thyvar if this were a normal timeline.
However, thanks to Adelina’s presence, those years have been significantly reduced to a simple six months.
And this mark symbolised it.
There was nothing stopping her, so the only thing I could do in this instance was to formulate a plan that would allow my survival.
I had spent hours racking my brain for all possible routes and outcomes.
Eventually, everything narrowed down to a single conclusion.
Since I couldn’t leave.
Since I couldn’t hide.
Since I couldn’t outrun the academy’s eyes.
There was only one option left.
Breaking the Arcseal.
The thought settled heavily in my chest.
If anyone else heard that, they’d probably laugh. Or worse, report me on the spot.
Even saying it out loud to myself felt absurd.
The Arcseal wasn’t just a restriction. It was an extension of the academy itself and was monitored at all times.
In simpler terms, it was a leash. And leashes weren’t meant to be broken.
The academy had done everything to make sure of this.
However, if that were the case, I wouldn’t be talking about this.
I flexed my fingers slowly.
The way to break the Arcseal was mentioned in the novel.
There were only two ways to break it.
The first method was complex and manageable only by a few people, even within the Imperial Corps.
In fact, there was a person who managed to do it.
However unsurprising that was, Adelina did it.
The night she caused the massacre, she had already slipped free of the Arcseal hours beforehand.
How she did it, though, was another matter entirely. The process involved preparations and conditions so specific that attempting to replicate them as a plebian like me would be suicide long before failure.
This left the second method.
It was relatively easy and simple. In fact, it was too simple.
‘Death.’
I internally left out a sigh.
Actual death nullified the Arcseal.
The logic was straightforward. The Arcseal didn’t exist independently. It was anchored to the user’s magic. As long as that persisted, the connection held.
But death severed it.
It was like a key bound to a lock. Once the key shattered, the lock no longer mattered.
When the user’s magic collapsed, the Arcseal lost its anchor.
I let out a slow breath.
So, yes. Breaking the Arcseal was possible.
The first one was unattainable, but the second method was manageable, but still the worst of both.
“All in all, great options around.”
Still, there was nothing else I could do at this point.
But a question that would arise here was—how?
How do you choose death when you’re trying to survive?
It sounded absurd when put that way and almost ironic.
But I wasn’t planning to kill myself permanently. That would defeat the entire point.
That much was obvious.
No, what I needed wasn’t death.
It was a return.
In the Sylvester Academy Chronicles, there was a single incident that marked the protagonist’s first emergence as this world’s so-called saviour.
A catastrophe that began with the sudden manifestation of an archdemon — the third highest in the demonic hierarchy — who had appeared without warning and caused a massive violence spree across the capital.
The archdemon wielded an artefact that was unknown to humanity. No matter how many times the Empire’s forces struck it down, its body reformed, and its core reknitted itself through some unknown mechanism.
The empire’s forces were overwhelmed.
Only when the protagonist confronted it directly did the battle end.
And when the archdemon finally fell, in the aftermath of that battle, the artefact fell with it, no longer bound to its former master.
That was when the protagonist obtained it and learned what it truly was.
The Eye of Reset.
A tool that could reverse death.
It could pull a soul back after its connection to the body had already been severed.
Although it sounded cool, the artefact had very limited use of just three times.
Although the archdemon had used it repeatedly during the fight, the artefact refused to activate more than three times once it passed to the protagonist.
The protagonist then would go on to use it twice during the climax of the novel, during the Great War and then never again.
When the war ended, he handed it over to the empire.
That was how the story was meant to go.
But stories only moved that way because no one acted sooner.
And unlike everyone else in the Empire at this point in time, I knew when and where the archdemon would first appear.
I exhaled slowly.
My plan was simple.
If I could reach that place before the massacre ever happened, claim the artefact before it passed into the protagonist’s hands, then one use would be enough.
Just one.
I wouldn’t keep it.
After severing the Arcseal through death, returning to life, surviving Adelina’s massacre, and escaping Saira’Thyvar…
I’d return it to its rightful owner, the protagonist.
The future still needed him.
And the Eye of Reset was necessary for the Great War.
It was a solid plan, but…
“Really…”
It sounded easy in theory, but this was a seriously reckless plan.
Although this incident would happen in a much shorter timeline, within three months, and left plenty of time before the villainess’ massacre, the timeframe for me to prepare for the archdemon hunt was rather short.
The protagonist had a hard time fighting the archdemon.
I wasn’t confident I could fare any better.
I might as well be walking into a deathtrap trying to fight the archdemon.
Seriously.
Still, avoiding it wasn’t an option, and waiting around would only make things worse for my circumstances.
I’ll have to plan carefully with no room for errors until that happens.
Because if something went wrong, there wouldn’t be a second chance.
And unlike the protagonist, who fought the demon without a manual, it was different for me.
I knew exactly what I had to do, thanks to the novel.
The execution was the difficult part, but if I want to survive the upcoming massacre, I’d have to die trying this.
It’s a little ironic, I thought.
But at least, my current path was clear.
The next hurdle was figuring out how to leave the academy when the time came, but—
“Cadet? Are you still trying on your uniform?”
The sharp voice yanked me out of my thoughts.
“It’s been an hour…!”
Right.
That problem could wait.
First things first, I needed to get out of the trial room.
***
After returning the uniform confirmation and collecting the rest of my belongings, I made my way back to the dormitory.
My thoughts were still tangled between my plans, timelines and survival.
By the time I reached my floor, I was already exhausted.
Then I saw her.
Standing right in front of my door.
Adelina.
For a second, my mind went completely blank.
She looked entirely at ease, hands folded behind her back, posture relaxed as if she owned the corridor.
When her eyes met mine, they curved slightly, and she gave a small wave, like she’d been there the whole time.
…Was she waiting?
Why was she here?
I swallowed and forced my legs to move.
The closer I got, the warmer the air felt.
“You’re late,” she said calmly. “I’ve been waiting.”
“W-waiting…?” I echoed. “Why…?”
She tilted her head, dark hair slipping over her shoulder.
“Key.”
“…Key?”
Before my brain could catch up, she stepped closer.
Too fast.
Too close.
My breath caught.
She leaned in, close enough that I caught her scent.
It was clean, sweet and… dangerous?
Her hand slipped toward my pocket.
I froze.
Heat rushed straight to my face.
My mind spiralled wildly, uselessly, screaming at me to do something—
Pocket—
She’s—why is she—
Don’t just stand there—
Say something—
Move—
Then her fingers closed around something solid.
She pulled it out and held it up between us.
The dorm key.
“Key,” she repeated, her voice amused. “Remember? We’re sharing it.”
My brain short-circuited.
“A—ah… y-yes. Right.”
The words came out embarrassingly stiff.
She smiled, satisfied, and turned toward the door.
“Oh, and—”
Just before stepping inside, she paused and glanced back.
“I’ll cook dinner tonight.”
Then, as if the thought amused her, she pressed a finger briefly to her lips, eyes still lingering on mine, before letting out a playful hum.
“Something… delicious~”
The door closed behind her.
I stood there, staring at the doorway long after she was gone.
My face was burning.
My thoughts were gone.
“…Right,” I muttered faintly.
At this rate…
Surviving Adelina might actually be harder than surviving an archdemon.
