An old man stepped out from behind the gathered teachers, his gait steady, his posture upright despite his age. The moment he appeared, the restless murmurs of hundreds of children and parents faded as though swallowed by the air itself. His presence needed no announcement—it simply demanded silence. Even the breeze drifting across the open field seemed to hush in his presence.
He raised his voice, rich and resonant.
"Welcome to the Elarion Academy. I am the principal, Howard Ellsworth, and I welcome you all."
A hush settled deeper across the field. The kings and queens seated among the crowd lifted their chins with interest, their attendants straightening at their sides. Even the nobles' expressions softened with curiosity; the academy was one of the few places where even royalty had to obey rules.
"I ask all the kings and queens to go up and take your seats on the second floor, where you may watch the selection round of your children—and your subordinates' children—with a grand view. Parents, leave your children and follow our staff to the stands. There are seats available for everyone. And the children—follow me and prepare to take your test."
A wave of farewells rolled across the field. Mothers pulled their children into final embraces; fathers placed heavy, reassuring hands on shoulders. Some children clung tightly, unwilling to part, while others bounced on their toes with barely contained excitement.
Ray tightened his grip on his father's cloak for a final moment. His mother and third mother each hugged him in turn, whispering advice, warnings, and encouragement—their voices warm.
When he finally stepped away, the warmth of their hands lingered on his skin, leaving his heart strangely both lighter and heavier.
He joined the stream of children following the principal toward a wide training field bordered by stone pillars engraved with ancient runes. Ray glanced back only once and spotted his parents seated among the crowd—three familiar silhouettes watching him with pride and hope.
The principal stepped onto a raised wooden platform. His voice carried effortlessly through the air.
"Let me tell you something about the academy. It has stood for thousands of years. Long ago, there were no academies—only sects, kingdoms, and wandering cultivators. But one day, a reincarnate from another world arrived here and created this academy. His name was Sir Aaron Maplewood.
"He established the academy as neutral ground and required every kingdom and sect to help finance it. Parents contribute tuition fees for their children, while those with talent or need may receive scholarships—systems Sir Aaron himself designed to ensure fairness, though few understood them at the time."
A stir rippled through the crowd. Ray, along with a few others, immediately guessed the truth: the academy's founder must have been a reincarnate from Earth as well. That knowledge was dangerous—something never to be spoken aloud.
The realization settled like a thin, invisible thread linking those who understood.
Ray kept his expression perfectly neutral. He didn't want to be identified by any of the other reincarnates. He had no intention of revealing where he truly came from. So he lowered his gaze, pretending disinterest, doing everything he could to remain unnoticed and low-key.
The principal continued, "Many of his rules baffled us at first, but in time we understood their value. I won't lecture you on his greatness. You'll learn it yourselves in class or from the library."
He paused, letting the weight of the academy's history sink in like an anchor.
"Now, to the main matter. The academy's course lasts eight years. If you can reach the Silver Stage early, you may graduate ahead of time. So far, everyone has taken at least six years. If you cannot graduate by the eighth year, you will be expelled or required to pay a penalty. We can only accept so many students, so work hard—or become a laughingstock."
A shiver ran through the group of children. Some straightened their backs; others shrank inward.
"And now," he said, brightening slightly, "the houses."
He lifted four fingers, each glowing faintly with colored light—water blue, earthy white, blazing red, and pale azure.
"Water—Black Turtle, Venus.
Earth—White Tiger, Mercury.
Fire—Red Phoenix, Mars.
Air—Azure Dragon, Jupiter.
"Each of you will be placed into one of these houses. You will train, live, and compete with them. Your house will become your strength—or your misery. It all depends on you."
Another ripple of tension spread through the children. Some inhaled sharply; others clenched their fists.
"For the selection," the principal continued, "you will undergo several examinations.
"First, an orb to verify your true age.
Second, an orb to confirm if you have awakened and begun cultivation.
Third, a test for your inclination toward alchemy, formations, talismans, and related professions.
Fourth, spiritual perception, endurance, willpower, and mana control.
Fifth, a hidden talent or bloodline test.
Sixth, a light sparring round with instructors.
And finally—the elemental affinity test, which will determine your house."
He stopped there—but he didn't mention the hidden twists in some of the exams. They would learn those through experience. A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes—quick, sharp, and entirely sinister. Most children missed it, but the teachers did not. They exchanged resigned looks.
The principal enjoyed watching them stumble into his traps.
The teachers and staff began shaking their heads. A quiet, collective sigh passed through them—the kind born from years of dealing with one man's unpredictable nature. They knew better than to interfere. Once, a well-meaning teacher had tried to warn a student. The principal had harassed him with elaborate pranks for a full month.
Since then, no one dared to disrupt his "fun."
At last, the principal clapped his hands.
"You will each receive a token. Crush it, and you will be transported to the exam realm."
Volunteer students moved through the crowd, distributing tokens—small metallic pieces etched with luminous runes that shifted subtly as they caught the light. Some children held theirs reverently; others stared with fear or fascination.
Ray accepted his, feeling a quiet pulse of warmth spread through his fingertips.
When the final token was handed out, the principal grinned broadly.
"Excellent! You all have your tokens. Crush them, and the examination shall begin."
The children hesitated only a moment before—
crack
crack
crack
—One by one, hundreds of tokens shattered.
Ray crushed his.
Light exploded from the broken token.
A soft chime rang in his mind—
Ding.
A notification flickered before his inner vision, but before he could read it, the world twisted, folding and collapsing around him. His surroundings shattered like glass, and he was sucked into a whirlpool of light.
As the last child vanished, an elderly woman stepped up behind the principal, her expression sharp and disapproving. She was the vice principal—and one of the few people unafraid of him.
"Howard!" she snapped. "This better be the last time you play tricks on the children."
The principal's jaw tightened.
"No. I have to teach one student a lesson, and you cannot stop me."
She let out a tired, defeated sigh—one that spoke of countless years enduring this man's schemes.
"Pity the poor child," she murmured. "Pity him indeed."
Far away, in a realm crafted solely for the academy's trials, Ray materialized—unaware that the principal's attention had already settled upon him.
And so began Ray's journey into the trials of the Elarion Academy.