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Third Person POV
Five more months had passed, bringing the trio to the most important day of their young lives. The Magic Knight Entrance Exam.
The coliseum was buzzing. Hundreds of teenagers, almost exclusively from noble and royal families, milled about in the massive open-air arena. This was a generation before commoners were truly given a chance, and the air was thick with the scent of arrogance, privilege, and nervous, untested power.
In the middle of the crowd, Michael, Acier, and Ignara stood together, their calm, confident energy a stark contrast to the jittery posturing around them.
"I still can't believe you stumbled," Ignara said, nudging Michael with her elbow, a teasing grin on her face. "You. Mr. 'Perfect Control.' Tripped over your own feet."
"I did not trip," Michael retorted, his cheeks a faint pink. He was referring to a royal ball they'd attended the week before. "Acier's father was staring at me like he wanted to turn me into a crystal statue. It was distracting."
"It was adorable," Acier said, her own smile serene. She, who had been a shy, quiet girl, now carried herself with an effortless, queenly grace. "But, Ignara, you can't talk. You spent the entire first dance hiding in the corner because you didn't know the steps."
"I did not hide," Ignara shot back, her face flushing. "I was... strategically observing. And I still got him to dance with me, didn't I? That's a win in my book. You were too shy to even ask."
"Asking wasn't the problem," Michael said, laughing. "The problem was that your 'dancing' almost broke my toes. You're lucky I was using mana reinforcement."
"Pah! You're just bad at dancing, and --"
"Next!" a gruff voice yelled.
The trio, who had been laughing, straightened up. They were at the front of the line for the grimoire inspection. A tired-looking registrar sat at a small table, a large ledger and a quill in front of him. A faint, glowing magic rune hovered over his hand, ready to record.
"Name," he grumbled, not looking up.
"Ignara Vermillion."
The man's head snapped up. He looked from Ignara's fiery red hair to the Vermillion crest on her clothes and swallowed. "O-of course, Lady Vermillion." His magic rune flared as he officially recorded her name. "Grimoire, please."
Ignara held up her scorched-red grimoire. The man's eyes widened. The sheer, raw power rolling off the book was palpable, and the three-leaf clover on its cover seemed to burn with its own inner fire. "A... a magnificent grimoire, my lady. You may proceed."
Acier stepped up next. "Acier Silva."
The registrar, who was already pale, seemed to shrink. "Lady Silva. A... an honor." His rune glowed again as he wrote. "Grimoire, please."
He then saw her grimoire, the pale, elegant book with its intricate silver filigree. He was about to speak when his eyes locked on the cover. "F-f-f..."
"Four leaves," Acier said calmly, holding it up for him to see.
The registrar dropped his quill, the nib snapping. "A four-leaf clover..." he whispered in awe. "In... in all my years... Please, proceed, my lady!"
Finally, Michael stepped up. "Michael Kira."
The registrar looked like he was about to faint. "Lord Michael. Of... of course. My apologies for the wait." He fumbled to magically repair his quill, his recording rune flickering nervously. "And... your grimoire, my lord?"
Michael held out his empty right hand.
The man stared at his empty hand, confused. "My lord?"
Michael willed it. With a soundless shwoom, the green-and-gold spear, its red blade seeming to drink the light, materialized in his grip.
The registrar's chair scraped as he physically recoiled, his eyes wide with an almost comical terror. The spear wasn't just a weapon; it was a presence. It radiated an ancient, unknowable power that made the man's teeth chatter.
"What... what is that?" he stammered.
"It's my grimoire," Michael said simply.
"A... a grimoire... spear..." The man just gave up. He scribbled frantically on his parchment. 'Grimoire: Spear???'
What a crazy, terrifying day, he thought, watching the trio walk away. Royals these days are built differently.
As the rest of the applicants were registered, a hush fell over the coliseum. On the high balcony reserved for the captains, eight figures emerged from the shadows and lined up, looking down on the hopefuls.
"The Captains..." someone whispered.
Michael, Acier, and Ignara looked up, studying their future colleagues and rivals.
At the head of the Crimson Lion was Ignatius Vermillion, Ignara's father, his presence as fiery and commanding as his reputation. Beside him was his Vice-Captain, Ardan Vermillion, Lysandra's husband. Ardan was a pillar of calm in his father-in-law's storm, his Ember Magic a stark but complementary contrast.
The Silver Eagles were led by Lord Cael Silva, Acier's father. He was a stern, proud man, his silver hair pulled back tightly, his eyes sharp and assessing. His magic, Crystal Mana, was a rare and powerful attribute. His Vice-Captain, Jax Silva, a distant cousin, stood beside him, a bored look on his face, his plant-based magic an oddity in the steel-and-crystal-focused Silva family.
In the center, representing the Golden Dawn, was Lady Seraphiel Kira. Michael's mother. She stood out from the others, her golden hair and warm, radiant aura a beacon of power. She gave her son, and the two girls beside him, a subtle, encouraging wink. Her Vice-Captain was not present.
The Blue Rose Knights were led by Captain Rita Fontaine, a tall woman with striking blue hair and eyes. She was a huge admirer of Seraphiel, a fact she made no secret of. Her Vice-Captain, a burly woman with Shield Magic, stood behind her, his arms crossed.
The Coral Peacocks were led by Skyler Sorath, a man who seemed to blend into the background, his expression completely neutral. He had black hair, green eyes, and was known for his debilitating Chain Magic.
The Purple Orcas were led by a large, rotund man with golden hair named Baron Krum, a sneer permanently etched on his face. He was a notorious noble-supremacist. His magic was said to be a powerful, brute-force Earth Magic.
The Azure Deer Captain was a woman with pale, snow-white hair named Alva, whose Snow Magic was rumored to be the most powerful defensive magic in the kingdom. She, too, looked down at the common-born registrars with open disdain.
And finally, the Captain of the Green Mantis, Jackson Blade. He was a powerfully built man with a few scars on his face, black hair, and dead black eyes. He wasn't even watching the applicants; he was staring at Seraphiel and Ignatius, a hungry, battle-maniacal grin on his face. He was a pure swordsman who used his Slice Magic to augment his attacks, a man who respected only one thing: strength. One of the kingdom's strongest pillars, only weaker to the wizard king and the captain of the Golden Dawn.
Seraphiel stepped forward, her voice amplified by magic, washing over the arena. "Welcome, applicants. You have all come here today seeking to join the ranks of the Magic Knights, the defenders of this kingdom." Her voice was warm, but it held the unyielding steel of a Captain. "Today, we will test your worth. You will face three trials. Do not hold back. Show us the full extent of your power. Your future begins now!"
She stepped back. "The first test... is to measure your magical quantity and presence. Unleash the Anti-Birds!"
From the high rafters, a massive flock of small, black, bat-like birds was released. They swarmed down into the arena, their screeching filling the air.
"These birds are drawn to weak mana," Seraphiel explained. "The fewer birds that land on you, the stronger you are."
The arena descended into chaos. The birds swarmed the weaker nobles, who shrieked and tried to bat them away.
In the center of it all, Michael just stood still. The birds swarmed the area, but they didn't just avoid him; they actively fled from him. A perfect, ten-foot circle of clear air formed around him as the birds sensed the dormant, terrifying power of his Soul Weapon and the immense radiance within him. They wanted nothing to do with it.
Acier, with her four-leaf grimoire, was similarly untouched. Not a single bird dared to land on her. Ignara, too, was left alone, her natural, fiery aura a clear deterrent... except for one, particularly brave (or stupid) little bird. It kept circling her head, trying to land, then veering off at the last second from the heat.
"GET... OFF... ME, YOU STUPID RAT-BIRD!" Ignara yelled, swatting at the air, her dignity crumbling. "I WILL INCINERATE YOU!"
Michael and Acier, standing in their own bird-free zones, just watched her and burst out laughing.
"The second test," Seraphiel announced, "is magic control."
A simple stone target appeared in front of each applicant. "You will create a sphere of your magic and hold it steady on the target for one minute. Control is the foundation of a true knight."
This was easy. For nobles who had been trained since childhood, it was simple. For Michael, Acier, and Ignara, who had been practicing this exact exercise since they were five, it was a joke.
They effortlessly formed their spheres. And then a golden sun, a silver orb, a crimson fire were formed and held them perfectly steady.
Michael's eyes scanned the crowd. He saw a few other standouts. A lanky, wild-looking applicant with black hair and sharp features was grinning as he held a perfect sphere of... something... that looked like it was cutting the air around it.
Jackson Blade, the battle-maniac captain, was watching this applicant with keen, undisguised interest.
He also noticed a young man with silver hair and gentle, violet-colored eyes. He looked almost bored, his sphere of light perfectly stable as he observed the other applicants with a detached curiosity.
As Michael was observing, a lesser noble, his sphere wobbling, noticed the trio. He saw Michael, with his effortless control, flanked by two breathtakingly beautiful young women. A sneer of jealousy crossed his face.
He swaggered over, dismissing his own sphere. "My, my, what have we here," he said, his voice oily, completely ignoring Michael and bowing to Acier. "My name is Lord Valen. I must say, I have never seen such beauty in one place. Perhaps you two lovely ladies would care to--"
"Fuck off, bitch," Ignara snapped, not even looking at him. "We both have a boyfriend."
Lord Valen's face went purple. "You... you dare--"
"Is there a problem here?" Michael asked, his voice quiet, his golden eyes having lost all their warmth.
"This is none of your--" Valen began, but he was cut off as another, older noble came sprinting over, his face pale with terror.
"Lord Valen! What in the Clover Kingdom's name are you doing?!" The high noble grabbed Valen by the arm and bowed deeply to the trio. "My deepest apologies, Lord Michael, Lady Acier, Lady Ignara! He did not know your identity!"
Michael just looked at the terrified man, then at the sputtering, confused Valen. He let the silence hang for a moment, then his expression softened, just a fraction. "There is nothing to forgive," he said, his voice polite but with a steel edge his father would have approved of. "He made a mistake. I trust it won't happen again. We wouldn't want this... misunderstanding... to cause any trouble for your family, would we?"
"No! No, of course not, Lord Michael! Thank you! Thank you!" The man bowed again, then dragged the protesting Valen away.
"What was that?!" Valen seethed, pulling his arm free once they were a safe distance away. "Why were you so scared of him?!"
The high noble slapped him, hard. "You idiot!" he hissed. "Do you have any idea who you just insulted?! That was Ignara Vermillion, daughter of the Crimson Lion King! And that was Acier Silva, daughter of the Silver Eagle King and wielder of a four-leaf grimoire! And the boy you ignored? That is Michael Kira! Son of the Golden Dawn Captain, nephew to the King, and the wielder of that... that thing! You didn't just insult three nobles; you insulted the three most powerful prospects of this generation! You nearly got your entire family erased!"
Valen's face went completely white. He looked back at the trio, who had already forgotten him, and began to tremble.
"The final test," Seraphiel announced, "is combat!"
A large tournament bracket appeared. "You will be paired for one-on-one matches. Show us your strength, your strategy, your will! Begin!"
The battles were fast and, for the most part, completely one-sided.
Acier's first match was against a noble with Earth Magic. He erected a dozen stone walls. Acier simply summoned her Bladed Seraphim, took to the air, and rained down a "Hundred Cuts," shredding his defenses and forcing him to yield in under thirty seconds.
Ignara's match was even faster. Her opponent, a brash young noble with Wind Magic, was blown off his feet by the sheer heat and force of her Crimson Howl before he could even cast a spell.
The wild-haired applicant, Jack, was a whirlwind of blades; his Slash Magic allowed him to create countless blades around his arms that diced his opponent's defenses to ribbons.
Julius, the silver-haired guy, was a complete enigma. His opponent attacked, and then... he was just suddenly behind him, his hand on his shoulder, his grimoire pages flipping at an impossible, blurred speed. The match was over before it began.
The matches continued, a blur of an afternoon. Finally, the bracket had been whittled down to two names.
Seraphiel stepped forward, a proud, almost feral grin on her face. "This has been an excellent exam. But it is time for the final match! Will the last two combatants please step forward?"
Julius Novachrono, the prodigy with the mesmerizing grimoire, walked to one side of the arena.
And on the other, his spear already in his hand, his golden eyes burning with anticipation, stood Michael Kira.
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