The capital of Atherion bustled with life. Spires of white stone gleamed under the sunlight, banners of countless noble houses fluttered in the wind, and airships drifted lazily across the sky. At the heart of the city stood the massive structure that drew aspiring youths from every corner of the continent—Arclight Academy.
It was not merely a school. It was a crucible. The place where warriors, magi, and hunters were forged into the guardians of civilization.
For Leonhart Valen—once a king, now reborn into the body of a child—this was where his new journey would begin.
The examination grounds stretched like a coliseum, its stone walls rising high, engraved with runes that shimmered faintly with protective wards. Hundreds of young hopefuls stood in neat rows, each wearing plain academy-issued robes. Some trembled nervously, while others grinned with overconfidence, their noble crests embroidered proudly on their sleeves.
Leonhart stood among them, silent, observing.
So this is how they sort the strong from the weak, he thought. His crimson-tinged eyes scanned the crowd, noting postures, breathing patterns, the subtle shift of weight in each candidate. Even here, on a field meant for children, he saw soldiers. Pawns. Rooks. Potential kings.
"Listen up, brats!"
A booming voice cut through the chatter. An instructor strode onto the platform—a towering man clad in black armor, his head shaved, his voice carrying the authority of command. His name, whispered among the students, was Instructor Kaelthas, a retired captain of the royal guard.
"Today, you will prove your worth," he barked. "The entrance examination of Arclight is not for the faint-hearted. If you cannot pass today's trial, leave now and save yourselves the humiliation."
No one moved.
Kaelthas smirked. "Good. Then let us begin. The first test—combat aptitude. The second—summoning."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Summoning. It was the hallmark of an Arclight mage. The ritual of forging a bond with a familiar beast—a spirit companion drawn from one's mana, willpower, and soul resonance.
Leonhart's lips twitched faintly. Summoning beasts… interesting. In my old world, we forged contracts with shadow familiars. Let's see how this compares.
The first trial began swiftly. Pairs of students were called into the arena to spar against summoned constructs—phantoms of stone and mana shaped into beasts. Some students fumbled their spells and were crushed in moments, carried away by healers. Others showed flashes of brilliance, felling their constructs with swordplay or coordinated magic.
Leonhart's turn came.
"Candidate Leonhart Valen," Kaelthas called.
The boy stepped forward. Whispers followed him—some mocking his frail frame, others dismissive. To them, he was just another commoner with no noble crest.
Leonhart ignored them all. His gaze fixed on the construct before him: a stone wolf, its body crackling with mana. It snarled, claws digging into the dirt.
"Begin!"
The wolf lunged.
Leonhart sidestepped smoothly, reading its trajectory as though he'd fought such creatures a thousand times before—which, in truth, he had. His small body lacked the raw strength of his past life, but precision was eternal. As the wolf passed him, Leonhart's hand flicked, shadows pooling beneath its feet.
The construct stumbled, snared by black tendrils. In that instant, Leonhart leapt forward and drove his fist into its chest. Mana surged. Shadows exploded. The wolf shattered into fragments of stone and light.
The arena fell silent.
"…What… was that?" a student whispered.
"Shadow magic…? I thought that art was extinct."
Kaelthas's eyes narrowed. He studied Leonhart with an intensity that would have made lesser children squirm. But Leonhart met his gaze evenly, expression unreadable.
At last, the instructor grunted. "Pass."
Leonhart returned to the line without a word.
The second trial began: Summoning the Beast.
A great circle had been carved into the center of the arena, inscribed with runes older than the academy itself. Candidates stepped inside one by one, channeling mana into the circle to call forth a familiar.
For some, glowing birds or small elemental sprites appeared. For others, wolf cubs or armored boars. Nobles, of course, boasted larger, more majestic creatures—gryphons, drakes, or even miniature hydras.
When Elira Moonveil's turn came, the crowd gasped. A radiant stag stepped forth from her circle, antlers woven with living light. The creature bowed its head gently toward her, and she smiled with quiet grace.
Leonhart watched from the shadows of the line, his gaze sharp. A Lightbound Stag… rare, and strong. She is more than a simple child, then.
At last, it was his turn.
"Candidate Leonhart Valen. Step forward."
He did. The runes glowed beneath his feet, thrumming with mana.
Summon a beast, is it? Leonhart mused. Then let us see… what lies within the soul of a king.
He closed his eyes. Mana welled within him, sluggish yet potent, colored by the remnants of his old life. He poured it into the circle.
The ground trembled.
Unlike the others, whose circles shone with white or blue, Leonhart's glowed with deep crimson and pitch-black shadow. Whispers spread through the arena, fear threading their voices.
From the circle, something emerged.
First came claws—vast and jagged, formed of living shadow. Then wings, tattered yet vast, unfurled with a sound like tearing fabric. Finally, eyes opened in the darkness—two blazing crimson orbs that pierced the crowd with primal dread.
The beast stepped forth: a towering Shadow Wyrm, its body coiled in black flame, its form both ethereal and solid.
The arena erupted in chaos.
"What—what kind of familiar is that?!"
"That's impossible! A commoner shouldn't—"
"That's not a beast, that's a monster!"
Even Kaelthas's expression faltered, his stern façade cracking into something almost like alarm. "You… boy… what have you summoned?"
Leonhart opened his eyes. The Shadow Wyrm lowered its massive head, bowing to him like a knight before a king. Its crims
The arena had descended into uproar.
Students gasped and whispered, some stepping back instinctively as the Shadow Wyrm coiled in the summoning circle, its vast wings blotting out the sunlight. Its form was both terrifying and majestic, a beast of nightmares yet undeniably regal.
"That can't be real…"
"No child could summon something like that!"
"Isn't that… forbidden magic?"
Even the instructors exchanged uneasy glances. Summoned familiars were usually reflections of one's soul—small creatures, manageable spirits, companions that grew alongside their masters. What Leonhart had called forth was something entirely different: ancient, primal, steeped in shadows that reeked of power long thought extinct.
Kaelthas, the head examiner, raised a hand. His deep voice cut through the chaos. "Silence!"
The murmurs died instantly. His eyes locked on Leonhart. "Boy. Do you understand what you have done?"
Leonhart stood calm, his hands clasped behind his back. His childlike frame seemed almost comical before the towering beast at his side, yet his presence was steady, unshaken. "I summoned," he said simply.
The Shadow Wyrm lowered its head, pressing its snout close to him, as though awaiting command. The gesture sent chills down the spines of everyone watching.
Kaelthas's jaw tightened. "This… is no ordinary familiar. It is dangerous."
Leonhart tilted his head slightly. "And yet it bows. Dangerous or not, it is bound to me. That is the purpose of summoning, is it not?"
The instructor had no reply. His silence was answer enough.
Of course, not everyone accepted it.
"Unacceptable!" A sharp voice cut through the tension. A noble boy stepped forward, clad in embroidered robes of blue and gold, the crest of House Drevan shining proudly on his chest. His name was Rufus Drevan, heir of one of the five great houses. His summon, a sleek gryphon with silver feathers, stood proudly at his side.
"This examination is meant to test aptitude fairly," Rufus declared, his voice dripping with arrogance. "That… monster… is a violation of every standard. No commoner could call such a beast without trickery."
Whispers of agreement rippled through the noble candidates.
Leonhart's crimson-tinged eyes shifted to Rufus, calm and cold. "…Are you suggesting I cheated?"
Rufus sneered. "If not cheating, then corruption. Summoning something of the Void reeks of dark magic. Such filth has no place in Arclight Academy."
At his words, the gryphon spread its wings, letting out a piercing cry that echoed through the coliseum. The challenge was clear.
Kaelthas opened his mouth to intervene, but Leonhart raised a hand, silencing him.
"…A duel, then?" the boy-king asked. His tone was quiet, but the authority in his words sent shivers down spines. "If you doubt my bond, let us test it in combat."
The crowd erupted in noise.
"A duel?!"
"He'll be crushed! Rufus is a noble, trained from birth!"
"But that beast… could it really fight?"
Kaelthas hesitated, then sighed. "Very well. The academy permits duels between candidates, so long as they remain within the bounds of summoning. Familiars only." He turned to Leonhart and Rufus. "Your summons will fight. If either of you loses control, you are disqualified. Do you understand?"
Both boys nodded.
The duel circle was drawn. The Shadow Wyrm slithered into its space, its massive body coiling like a serpent, wings casting long shadows across the ground. Opposite it, the gryphon lowered its stance, silver feathers bristling, eyes sharp and hungry for victory.
The crowd leaned forward, anticipation thick in the air.
"Begin!"
The gryphon launched first, a streak of silver and wind. It moved with speed that belied its size, talons gleaming with mana. With a screech, it slashed down toward the Shadow Wyrm's head.
The wyrm's crimson eyes flared. Its shadowed body rippled, dissolving into mist for an instant before reforming behind the gryphon. With terrifying speed, it lashed out, wings like blades, forcing the gryphon to retreat midair.
Gasps filled the stands.
"That speed—!"
"It vanished—!"
"No, it shifted into shadow!"
Rufus gritted his teeth. "Don't falter! Tear it apart!"
The gryphon obeyed, whipping up a cyclone of wind blades, dozens of cutting arcs raining down. The Shadow Wyrm raised its wings, shadows swirling into a barrier that absorbed the strikes with an ear-splitting hiss.
Then it struck.
The wyrm's maw opened, releasing a beam of pure shadow flame. It wasn't fire in the ordinary sense, but an annihilating torrent that devoured light itself. The gryphon barely evaded, feathers scorched as the attack carved a smoking trench into the arena floor.
Students screamed, instructors reinforced the wards with desperate chants. Even Kaelthas's eyes widened.
"This power…" he whispered. "This is no mere child's summon."
But the battle was not over.
Rufus's eyes blazed with fury. He channeled his mana into the gryphon, forcing it to ascend higher, wings glowing with radiant light. The gryphon shrieked, diving like a meteor, talons cloaked in wind and lightning.
Leonhart narrowed his gaze. A reckless charge. Predictable.
He raised his hand. "Down."
The Shadow Wyrm obeyed instantly. Its body melted into the arena floor, vanishing as though it had never existed. The gryphon struck the ground where it had stood—only to meet empty stone.
Too late, Rufus realized the trap.
From beneath the gryphon's shadow, the wyrm erupted, colossal jaws snapping shut around its opponent's wing. The gryphon shrieked in agony, dragged down and pinned, its silver feathers scattering like snow.
The duel was over.
The Shadow Wyrm loomed over the gryphon, eyes glowing crimson, flame gathering in its maw. One more strike, and the noble's beast would be annihilated.
"Enough!" Kaelthas roared.
Leonhart lowered his hand. The wyrm froze, then slowly withdrew, releasing the battered gryphon.
Silence fell over the arena.
Rufus stared, face pale, pride shattered. His gryphon limped back to him, trembling.
Leonhart, meanwhile, stood calm, his expression unreadable.
"I believe," he said quietly, "that concludes the matter."