Beyond A prodigy
Two weeks ago
The Royal Academy of Valenor
Inside the Principal's Office
A sudden knock echoed through the room.
"Principal, may I come in?"
The voice belonged to a woman, calm and composed, carrying the confidence of someone who was used to speaking within these walls.
After a brief pause, a deep and heavy voice responded from inside.
"You may enter."
The door opened, and a woman stepped into the room before closing it quietly behind her.
Her name was Lady Elira Montclair.
She was a noble from a respected house that had produced mages for generations.
Her appearance was refined but not extravagant, with neatly tied chestnut hair and sharp blue eyes that reflected both intelligence and curiosity.
Though still relatively young, she had already made a name for herself within the academy as a capable instructor and researcher.
She walked forward and took a seat across from the principal.
Behind the desk sat Alaric Valenor, the principal of the Royal Academy.
He was a former hero, now in his fifties, yet his body still carried the solid build of a frontline warrior rather than a scholar.
His shoulders were broad, his posture firm, and his movements were steady in a way that spoke of long years of battle.
A long scar ran across his face, beginning near his cheekbone and ending just below his jaw.
It was not hidden, nor softened by age.
It was the kind of scar that belonged to someone who had faced death repeatedly and survived every time.
His eyes were sharp and calm, but behind them lingered the weight of someone who had seen too many things in his lifetime.
At the moment, he was sorting through documents, his attention fixed on his work.
Elira watched him for a moment before speaking.
"You were present during the admissions this year."
"Yes."
Alaric replied without lifting his gaze.
She leaned forward slightly.
"Was there anyone who caught your attention among the new students?"
As part of academy regulations, the principal was required to personally oversee the admission tests.
Elira usually attended as well, but this time she had declined due to her own research, even after Alaric had asked her to be present.
At her question, Alaric stopped writing.
He set the quill down slowly and leaned back in his chair.
For a brief moment, his eyes drifted to the side, as if recalling something vivid.
Then a faint smile appeared on his face.
Elira froze when she noticed it.
"…You're smiling."
Alaric rarely smiled.
It wasn't that he was incapable of it, but that very few things still surprised him enough to warrant it.
When he did smile, it usually meant something significant had occurred.
Noticing her reaction, Alaric spoke calmly.
"Guess who it might be."
Elira frowned slightly and began listing names.
"Was it Arienne Solaria, the saintess candidate from the Kingdom of Lumeris?"
"She possesses exceptional light affinity and remarkable healing talent."
Alaric replied.
"However, her lack of real combat experience may become a weakness."
"Then perhaps Lythiel Sylvaris, the elf princess?"
"Her mana control is impressive for her age. Though her temperament remains unstable."
Elira continued naming other prominent students, heirs of powerful houses and recognized prodigies.
Each time, Alaric acknowledged them calmly, noting both strengths and flaws.
When she finally finished, Alaric spoke again.
"Even among them... there was someone who stood apart."
Elira tilted her head.
"What do you mean?"
Alaric's gaze sharpened.
"Not exceptional in the usual sense...
Terrifying would be a more accurate word."
Elira frowned.
"Terrifying?"
He nodded.
"What I saw during the physical test was not normal."
---
Two days earlier
Physical Examination and Interview Hall
The examination hall was vast, reinforced with multiple layers of defensive enchantments.
It was designed to withstand reckless spells, uncontrolled mana surges, and even clashes between high-level combatants.
Four figures sat on an elevated platform.
The principal sat at the center, flanked by two male instructors and one female instructor.
It was a short break between interviews, and the instructors were quietly debating the candidates they had already seen.
"Arienne is still the most promising so far."
One of the instructors remarked.
"The elf princess surpasses her in mana efficiency... Even if her attitude is problematic."
The female instructor listened, occasionally offering brief observations.
Their discussion halted when the doors opened again.
The next student entered.
A young boy with pale skin and a fragile-looking body stepped into the hall.
His hair was light-colored, bordering on silver, and his features were calm, almost detached.
But what drew attention immediately were his eyes.
Blood-red eyes that held no hesitation, no nervousness, and no excitement.
Eyes that observed the room as if measuring it.
A finely crafted sword rested on his back, its presence contrasting sharply with his seemingly weak physique.
The principal narrowed his eyes slightly.
'Those are not the eyes of an ordinary student.'
They were the eyes of someone who had experienced death at close range.
One of the instructors leaned forward and asked quietly.
"That student... who is he?"
The one who spoke was Lord Varron Halecrest, a noble instructor known for his sharp tongue and unpleasant demeanor.
"State your reason for enrolling."
Varron asked.
The boy answered calmly.
"Because this academy is the best."
Varron frowned.
"…That's all?"
"Yes."
A scoff escaped Varron's lips.
"So you believe yourself worthy of it."
The boy did not respond.
The other instructors asked a few standard questions, but the answers neither impressed nor offended them.
The principal remained silent.
"Show us your abilities."
Varron said at last.
The boy nodded.
For a moment, the instructors expected him to reach for the sword on his back.
Instead, he raised his hand.
Mana gathered instantly, without a chant or visible preparation.
A flame appeared above his palm, small but stable, its shape perfectly controlled without any excess heat dispersing into the surroundings.
A basic fire spell.
Varron smirked and mockingly said—
"Casting without a chant is impressive... But this alone is nothing special here."
Even the principal felt a flicker of disappointment.
Then the boy dismissed the flame and raised his hand again.
The air compressed sharply.
A narrow blade of wind formed, rotating tightly while leaving the surrounding space undisturbed.
He released it, and it dissipated cleanly against the barrier.
The instructors exchanged glances.
"Two elements."
One of them murmured.
The boy continued.
Water condensed into a hovering sphere.
Half of it froze instantly, forming clear ice, before melting again into mist.
Next, the stone beneath the floor vibrated as a thin spike of earth rose and sank without causing damage.
A small vine formed briefly before dissolving into mana particles.
Metal condensed from trace elements in the air, forming a thin shard.
Electricity crackled softly between his fingers before fading.
Each spell was simple but precise.
The hall grew quiet.
Varron's expression stiffened.
"This is getting ridiculous."
The boy raised his hand again.
Light gathered, forming a gentle glow that radiated warmth without blinding the eyes.
Then darkness followed, not as shadow, but as a distortion that bent and swallowed the light itself.
The instructors were left speechless.
Then—
The boy glanced at Varron's desk.
An apple sat there.
He reached out, and the bite mark on the apple reversed, restoring it to its original state.
Varron froze.
Gravity followed.
Varron's chair lifted slowly, just enough to make him feel weightless, before pressure increased briefly and dropped him back down.
Varron gasped, his face pale.
Then the air warped.
Spatial distortion flickered dangerously toward Varron.
The principal stood instantly, suppressing it before it could manifest.
"That's enough."
Alaric said firmly.
The boy lowered his hand.
"You may leave."
"I'm not finished."
The boy replied calmly.
Confusion spread through the hall.
He reached for the sword on his back.
"I would like to demonstrate this as well.
I request a spar."
The female instructor stepped forward.
Her name was Lady Seris Dawnblade.
A noble of a renowned house, a master swordswoman, and an expert in aura who stood at the peak of her current path, aiming for her next ascension.
She agreed.
The moment she released her presence, the pressure in the hall increased noticeably.
The boy took a stance.
Aura flowed through his body in a refined, controlled manner.
In less than a second, he crossed the distance between them.
He vanished from his position and appeared behind her.
She reacted instantly, blocking with aura-coated steel.
The impact shattered his blade.
But what mattered was his movement and his control over his aura.
Every movement of his was precise, efficient, and overwhelming.
His aura flowed, redirected, and was controlled.
Seraphine's eyes widened.
'He's manipulating aura like breathing.'
The exchange ended quickly.
"That's all."
Then he turned and left.
The instructors remained silent.
No one spoke.
They all understood the same thing.
They had just witnessed something far beyond a prodigy.
