It was the time when our main character Ray thought that he would get to join the academy with a low profile and continue along with increasing modernity in this new world he has been reborn in. But it seems as his third mother says, "Wherever Ray goes, trouble follows." Even though he didn't want the spotlight, he always ended up in a spotlight.
Ray had to face trouble everywhere he tried to go; it is as if there is an enemy ready everywhere he goes. Sometimes, he felt the very air was waiting to trip him. He thought he had left the Richard kingdom and left all the troubles behind. He wanted to restart in the academy with low-key thoughts. A fresh start—quiet, unnoticed—was all he wanted. But it seems he has to show some people that if you mess with him, he will get back at them, making them wish they never messed with Ray.
Currently our main character managed to answer all of the quiz questions like the back of his hand. The quills still trembled on the principal's desk as if shocked into silence. It frustrated the principal since he thought he was going to give Ray a hard time this time. Even if not, he thought Ray would waste a lot of time. In this round there were pranks on both sides. In the free route there is another prank, and on the challenge side the principal set up questions that were meant for older students. Ray had no idea that the principal had done this; the principal wanted to bully Ray a little in this round, which he failed miserably.
Ray wanted to show only his formation ability, but he needed allies in this academy so that people like the principal could not bully him, and so Ray thought of this round. In this round it wasn't that simple; it is to see whether you have interest in formation, talismans, and such, but there are instructors waiting behind it.
Therefore, he planned on going to swordsmanship, formation, and talisman to get recognized by great teachers and help those who are not afraid of the principal. And confront the principal if he tries to bully Ray.
But Ray didn't go to any of the talisman, formation, or swordsmanship rooms first in the third round. No, he went to the alchemy room first. His footsteps echoed down the cold corridor, each step steady but tinged with anticipation. And when he entered as expected, he found the person there he wanted to see. Yes, it is none other than his grandmother, Brenda, standing there as an instructor.
Alchemy Room
Brenda was happy to see Ray, her eyes softening with warmth the moment he entered. The little camera was following every movement of Ray, and whatever he speaks can be seen or heard by the higher authority, like the principal and vice principal only; the audience cannot hear it. Ray started to complain to his grandmother.
Brenda got furious and wanted to lash out and give her piece of mind, but Ray told her to wait for the exam to end. She can give her piece of mind when the exam ends. Ray then bid farewell to his grandmother after complaining and giving her a hug. Brenda held him tightly for a moment longer than expected, as though protecting him silently.
Talisman Room
Ray stepped into the Talisman Room, and the air felt thick with the hum of latent energy, as though every talisman in the room was quietly waiting to see what he could do. The faint scent of ink, herbs, and metal mingled together, creating a heady atmosphere that made his senses sharper.
An instructor stood there, stern and bearded, with a gaze that could pierce through hesitation, wearing formal clothing that emphasized his seriousness. "Create a talisman of the seventh Qi stage," he commanded.
Ray's fingers moved almost automatically, tracing intricate symbols in the air, feeling the subtle flow of Qi under his skin, weaving it into a perfect talisman. The moment he finished, the room seemed to exhale, as if the talisman itself had validated his skill.
The instructor's eyes widened ever so slightly. He had expected hesitation, fumbling, and mistakes—but none appeared. "Again," he said, voice a little tighter now, testing him.
Ray obliged, his movements swift and precise. Each talisman seemed to form as if it were an extension of his will, energy bending and shaping at his command. The instructor's strict expression began to falter, curiosity overtaking discipline.
Soon, the instructor summoned a senior figure: Sylas Runehart, the great master of talisman, arrived with measured steps, his presence commanding every talisman in the room to hum with recognition. His eyes, sharp and calculating, studied Ray like one might examine a rare gemstone.
"You are… extraordinary," Sylas said, voice calm but carrying weight. The words themselves seemed to vibrate in the room, heavy with promise. "I want you as my student."
Ray's lips curved into a faint, wry smile, part satisfaction, part exasperation. "Thank you, sir. But I must complain—about the principal. He's been bullying me, pranking me, and slowing down my progress during the exam. It's… frustrating."
Sylas's eyes narrowed, a flash of protective and paternal concern passing through them. He leaned closer, studying Ray's posture, his aura radiating calm authority. "I see," he said slowly, "you are not only talented but also aware of the politics here. That makes you… dangerous, in a sense. Not to me, but to those who underestimate you."
Ray nodded, the tension in the room intensifying slightly, a silent agreement forming between master and potential student. "I don't wish to be in the spotlight. But if someone tries to hold me back, I will respond. I will not be bullied."
Sylas exhaled softly, almost as if releasing the pressure in the room. "Good. You understand. Power without foresight is wasted. But power with foresight… that can change the world." He straightened, the air around him humming with authority, as if silently marking Ray as someone destined for greatness.
Ray glanced around the room, feeling the weight of unspoken promise. Every talisman seemed to respond to him, acknowledging his presence, and somewhere deep inside, he knew: he had allies now. Strong, formidable allies—those who could counter even the principal's schemes.
And as Sylas watched him, the senior master's expression softened slightly, a mixture of admiration and expectation. He knew that this boy, despite his youth, was not to be underestimated. And neither was the storm he was about to unleash in the academy.
Swordsmanship Room
Ray entered the Swordsmanship Room with a steady breath, feeling the faint tang of polished wood and the metallic scent of sharpened blades in the air. This was his element—where his late Qi stage sword force and honed skill could shine. Yet, something felt… different. A presence. A pulse of energy, deep and ancient, seemed to ripple through the room, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
He demonstrated his sword force, each movement precise, fluid, and almost musical, the energy of his Qi flowing through the air like a living thing. The force cut clean arcs in the atmosphere, leaving an almost visible shimmer in its wake.
It wasn't long before someone noticed. A figure, serene yet commanding, rose from meditation across the academy. The sound of his footsteps was soft and deliberate, yet it carried the weight of a lifetime of training. Adrian Lock—Samurai Shadow Wind—appeared in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he sensed the extraordinary sword force radiating from the young boy.
He was not old, yet every line of his body spoke of decades spent perfecting the blade. His presence alone seemed to bend the air around him, creating a subtle pressure that made Ray instinctively straighten his posture. This was no ordinary swordsman; this was a living legend, and he was staring directly at Ray.
"Who—" Adrian's voice cut through the tension, low and calm, yet carrying undeniable authority, "—is the one producing such sword force?"
Ray's heart thumped, but not from fear. There was exhilaration, a thrill in being recognized by someone of such caliber. He bowed slightly, still maintaining composure. "I am Ray. And I… only do what I must."
Adrian's eyes, sharp and penetrating, scanned him from head to toe. He sensed the precision, the power, and the maturity behind the young boy's movements—qualities far beyond his age. Every subtle twitch of Ray's hand, every controlled breath, spoke volumes.
"I have trained all my life in the art of the sword," Adrian said slowly, almost reverently, "yet to sense a young child wielding this level of sword force… I cannot ignore it. You will be my student."
Ray's lips curved into a subtle smile, not arrogance, but quiet pride. "Thank you, sir. But…" His tone shifted, sharp and candid. "I've been dealing with unnecessary interference. The principal… he's been trying to slow me down, pranking me, and bullying me during the exam. It's been… frustrating."
Adrian's jaw tightened imperceptibly. A shadow crossed his features—protective, almost paternal. "I see," he said, voice calm but heavy with warning. "This academy may not recognize your potential yet. But I will ensure no one hinders your path. Understand this: your skill is not just power—it is responsibility."
Ray nodded, the intensity of the moment settling deep into his bones. "I understand, sir. I will not let anyone—no matter their authority—interfere with my growth."
Adrian's expression softened slightly, but the air around him remained charged. Even in silence, the room vibrated with potential—mentor and student, two swordsmen connected by destiny, yet standing on opposite sides of the academy's quiet battlefield.
"Good," Adrian said, finally. "Then we begin." A slight wind stirred, carrying with it the promise of countless duels, lessons, and trials that would shape Ray into something extraordinary.
And somewhere deep in Ray's mind, a small thought whispered: the principal had no idea just how many forces were now aligned against him.
Formation Room
Finally, it was time for formation, which Ray considered his strongest skill. But as he entered, a sharp chill ran down his spine—the vice principal herself, Rosemary, sat behind the table, a subtle but undeniable aura of authority radiating from her. The room, otherwise quiet and empty, felt charged, as if every corner were watching him, waiting for a single misstep.
She smiled at him, a slow, almost unreadable curl of lips that hinted she already knew more than she let on, and asked, "What are you trying to do by complaining to all those fellow colleagues of mine?"
Ray sat opposite her, his calm mask hiding the storm of thoughts inside. The air between them felt thick, each word a careful sword stroke. He smiled in return, a light, measured smile, but his eyes were sharp, calculating. "What do you think I should do, then? Let the principal bully or prank me?"
Her smile didn't falter. "I asked first."
"Well," Ray replied, his tone deceptively light, "you are delaying me as well. But I don't mind answering. Isn't it obvious? If I want to join this academy, I will not let anyone bully me. I wanted to remain low-key… but it seems some ancient being is determined to prevent me from living peacefully." He leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing, daring her to underestimate him.
Rosemary's smile remained, but there was a faint flicker in her eyes, a subtle acknowledgment of the weight behind his words. "You do know, out of the three people you've gone to, I could easily stop my husband, Adrian Lock. And I might not even help you. What will you do then?"
Ray's lips curved into that infamous, slightly mischievous smile, the one that had given the academy cameras and observers a chill before. "I have many ways to respond," he said calmly, though his eyes burned with quiet determination. "I've thought of ways to get even with this academy if the teachers do not help me."
"Oh! Do tell… How are you going to get even with us?" Rosemary asked, letting a small, almost teasing giggle escape. But beneath the surface, her fingers twitched ever so slightly on the edge of the table—she wasn't sure if she was more curious or wary.
Ray's smile darkened, subtle but unmistakably dangerous. "First, I can call on the Inventor Guild. All the vice leaders adore me. They could easily disable all the networks the principal is gloating over right now."
Her frown deepened, a flicker of genuine concern crossing her usually composed face. But Ray didn't pause. "Second, I can ask King Daymond to establish an academy from the Richard Kingdom. Sir Aaron created one for all nine kingdoms, yet no other king or queen has dared. I could offer the same idea to the rest of the rulers. There are countless other plans I've thought of… none of which require violence."
Rosemary's hand froze mid-air. Her heart skipped a beat. The words were more than just clever strategies—they were seismic, capable of reshaping the academy's very foundation. Only the principal could hear this through the hidden speaker, and she knew he would react just as she had.
Ray's gaze locked with hers, steady and unflinching, the calm confidence of someone who had already calculated every move of the game. He smiled, waiting for her reply. The room was silent, heavy with unspoken tension, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Ray wondered quietly, almost to himself, if the principal would come running to this room next… and whether he would be ready.