The Place Where It Begins Again

Instructor Rèn stood at the front of the field, her presence impossible to ignore even before one noticed her clothing.

She wore hunter’s trousers fitted for movement, a plain white blouse beneath a blue coat that swayed lightly whenever the wind passed. The fabric looked worn, not old—used. As if it had survived places most people never would.

She wasn’t alone.

Around her, twenty-seven other instructors formed a loose line, each one distinct, each one radiating their own weight. Some leaned casually against spears or staffs. Others stood upright, arms crossed, eyes sharp and unreadable.

With that many instructors present, there was no doubt left.

Every first-year and second-year cadet would take part.

No exceptions.

The air felt different because of it—thicker, charged, as if the academy itself had leaned closer to watch.

This was it.

This test.

This place.

This was where I would finally begin my revenge.

“I believe all of you are prepared. You’ve trained hard for this exploration test.”

Instructor Rèn’s voice carried effortlessly across the field, calm yet firm, slipping into the ears of every cadet without strain. Her posture was as it always was: one hand resting loosely on her waist, shoulders relaxed, chest open.

For a swordswoman, it was an odd stance.

Too open.

Too relaxed.

And yet, there was intent woven into it.

That posture left visible openings—angles a novice might try to exploit—yet at the same time it communicated something else entirely. Confidence. Experience. The kind that didn’t need to close its guard to feel safe.

Another year.

Just one more year, and I think I can surpass her.

The thought surfaced naturally, without ambition or heat. Just observation.

Students began to move.

Boots scraped against stone. Cloaks brushed past one another. Low voices overlapped, names being called, plans forming and dissolving in seconds.

“I want groups of four,” Rèn continued. “Since the number of cadets won’t be perfect, you don’t need one student from each year. Join whoever you want. In the end, one group will have only three cadets.”

A ripple went through the crowd.

The numbers were awkward.

Not just in total—but in balance.

There weren’t equal numbers of aura users and mana users. Most likely, many groups would end up with three aura users and one mage. Others might consist solely of mana users, relying entirely on spell coordination rather than physical presence.

Freedom of choice always sounded fair.

In practice, it opened gaps.

Unbalanced teams. Poor synergy. Groups built on reputation instead of strategy.

I scanned the field.

I saw my sister already forming her own group, her posture decisive, her movements efficient. For a brief moment, instinct tugged at me.

I couldn’t join her.

Doing so would draw attention—attention I couldn’t afford.

Luiz stood nearby, already accompanied by Sirius and Anneliese.

“Assir, come with us,” Luiz said, lifting his hand slightly. “Our group will be the strongest.”

“I can’t,” I replied. “I need to join the princess’s group.”

I kept my expression neutral and avoided looking directly at Anneliese.

Luiz didn’t know about my circumstances.

He had no reason to.

Anneliese was one of the academy’s top candidates, admired, respected, feared in her own way.

I didn’t feel betrayed.

Just mildly sick.

The thought of forming a group with her left something unpleasant in my chest.

“Ah, that’s fine then,” Luiz shrugged. “Hyeol, Sirius told me you ranked nineteenth. Want to join us?”

The moment those words left his mouth, something shifted.

A faint vibration brushed against my senses—so subtle it could have been imagined. Like the ground beneath us had inhaled.

For a second, I thought the world was about to tilt.

Probably nothing.

“I’m not interested.”

Hyeol’s voice cut through the noise cleanly, sharp and flat.

It caught me completely off guard.

The feeling in my chest tightened, not fear exactly—more like recognition. The kind that comes before trouble.

Maybe that earlier premonition hadn’t been meaningless.

Yu Huan approached Luiz next.

Second in the ranking of our year.

Her movements were smooth, deliberate. She spoke quietly, but whatever she said convinced him quickly. She joined their group without hesitation.

She was strong.

That entire group was strong.

Standing together, they emitted a peculiar aura—not overwhelming, but dense. Like pressure building behind a sealed door.

“May I join you?”

A boy stepped forward from between clusters of cadets.

He had dark skin and wore a green robe stitched with faint geometric patterns. On his left cheek, a tattoo shaped like an S curved along the bone.

Accumulation Path.

I recognized it immediately.

A method used to store mana over time before releasing it in a concentrated burst. For mages with excellent control, tattoos like that were almost mandatory. Regardless of natural mana reserves, it multiplied output dramatically.

And with proper control, the risk of backlash was low.

“Of course,” Luiz said. “We were actually looking for a mage.”

“Thank you,” the boy replied. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Mark, a descendant of a Tower mage.”

He didn’t say which one.

He didn’t need to.

Entry into the Mage Tower required a minimum level of talent. Just being a descendant already placed him above most.

I searched my memory.

I was certain I’d seen his name on the mana-user rankings. The top three had tied in time—so if my recollection was right, he was fourth.

The third princess had been fifth.

That left only one person missing from my group.

I scanned the crowd again.

Hyeol was already walking beside me.

We’d gone out a few times. Nothing dramatic. Nothing serious. Still, without saying it directly, we’d agreed to team up whenever group situations arose.

An understanding.

Yet those meetings hadn’t led anywhere.

Maybe I’d misjudged her.

Hyeol probably wasn’t the kind of girl who gave herself away easily.

Or drugged someone.

The thought made me uncomfortable.

I felt embarrassed for doubting someone who had always seemed gentle.

Or maybe that’s just what I want to believe.

Paranoia, perhaps—but I couldn’t let my heart waver. Not now. Not ever again.

“Assir!”

I turned.

Princess Shaitan stood a short distance away, her presence subtle but unmistakable. When she approached, her gaze moved carefully over our forming group.

“Shall we go together?” I asked.

“That’s fine…”

Her eyes never left Hyeol.

Golden met crimson.

Shaitan’s gaze was calm, observant.

Hyeol’s burned quietly, like embers beneath blood-soaked cloth.

From another angle, Hyeol’s appearance could be dangerous.

I remembered a duel from earlier that year. Someone had challenged her—seventh in the rankings, if I recalled correctly.

Same year as us.

She defeated him without using aura.

At the time, I hadn’t understood what I was seeing.

Later, I learned she’d passed the first test without aura as well.