Humong announced another twenty students' names.
But this time, they were not first-years. Not second-years. Not hopeful recruits waiting for placement.
They were fourth-year graduates—the academy's finest, stepping into the real battlefield.
Each name carried weight.
Each name meant blood.
Among them, one caused a sharper stir.
Saira's brother.
When his name echoed through the hall, several heads turned. Some with admiration. Some with envy.
"Assigned to frontline command. Officer rank—Lieutenant."
The word Lieutenant did not sound like a reward.
It sounded like a countdown.
The frontline was not glorious.
It was survival.
Saira's fingers tightened at her sides, but she didn't lower her head. Pride and fear warred silently in her eyes.
Humong continued reading, voice unwavering, as if announcing routine statistics rather than futures balanced on the edge of war.
Humong said loudly, "Now I am going to announce the name of our academy's finest student, who has not only made our academy proud but also contributed heavily to the human race, even while studying here."
"Meva Ren, graduated with 90% in the major subject Space Flight, assigned to a Captain position in Space Flight…"
A staircase began to unfold from the White House balcony floor and ended at the stage.
A young girl under twenty, seated in the lion-head seat, stood up, her long blond hair flowing freely. Her oval face had perfect features, and she wore the red academy uniform as she slowly walked down the stairs. She stepped onto the stage lightly; to others, it felt like a white pearl falling from the sky, untouchable, landing softly on the floor.
As she held the certificate, Humong said politely, "Thank you."
Meva didn't say anything; she just nodded her head as if it were normal for her, then left the stage using the same stairs to return to her seat.
The seniors from the balcony all began to clap, and the other new students followed. Some newcomers even began to dream of achieving a captain position, as the ranks were familiar to most people present.
There were three ranks: Enlist rank, Officer rank, and High Command rank. Enlist rank was for basic soldiers and operatives' tasks; Officer rank was for tactical command and strategy; High Command rank was for elite military leadership.
In the Enlist rank, there were Recruit, Private, Corporal, Sergeant, and Master Sergeant. Officer ranks included Lieutenant, Captain, Major, and Colonel. High Command ranks included Brigadier General, Star General, and Supreme Commander. Each rank was further divided into one to ten stars.
Humong announced, "Bolan, graduate with 95% in the major subject Combat, assigned to a Captain position, frontline."
A young man with a large, muscular body, seated in the lion head seat with a black academy uniform, jumped off the Black House balcony and landed on the stage. In front of the dean, a small shockwave of air formed due to the impact of the jump.
As he received the certificate and saw others clapping, he winked at the new female students. They could only return a forced smile. Bolan was not handsome, but with an average look and a body like a bodybuilder, he seemed much older than he was.
Bolan returned to his place the same way he came.
Humong said with a sad expression, "It is really unfortunate that the other three were not able to attend the graduation ceremony due to delays from their last mission. I want someone from their respective houses to come and receive the certificates for them."
"Holin…, graduated with 96% in major subject ….., assigned to Major position in …..""Leo…, graduated with 98% in major subject ….., assigned to Major position in …..""At last, Hegon…, graduated with 90% in major subject….., assigned to Colonel position in Space Flight…"
With these three name announcements, the respective house seniors came to receive their certificates. Among the present seniors, Arlo was also among them.
Many newcomers regretted not being able to see these figures, who had achieved high military rankings, while the reporters were slightly stressed, unable to record all the graduate students in one frame.
Some discussion noises were heard among the newcomers.
"Isn't the top graduate's surname quite familiar?" one newcomer said with sudden realization.
"They are all from the top five legacy families."
"What?"
"It's not fair. Why is there no one from ordinary families?"
Humong coughed sharply, the sound echoing through the vast hall like a warning bell.
Despite decades of command and ceremony, a flicker of discomfort crossed his aged face. He had stood before war councils and battlefield tribunals without hesitation—yet today felt different.
The newcomers seated below him were not just children of polished city towers.
They came from everywhere.
From developed metropolitan sectors.
From forgotten slum districts.
From regions where communication was a luxury and electricity a privilege.
And this ceremony was being broadcast across mainstream channels.
Everyone knew the truth.
In the past twenty years, only children from legacy families had successfully graduated. And even then, only those who became captains and scored above eighty-five percent in their major discipline survived the system.
Humong straightened.
"You have all signed the academy contract," he began evenly. "The rules are clearly stated. But I will repeat the most important ones."
His gaze swept across the hall.
"Only Silver Badge students may enter the second year. Only Gold Badge students may enter the third year. Only Elite Badge students may enter the fourth year."
A murmur began.
"The captain of each house receives additional graduation marks based on contribution. To become captain, the candidate must be a fourth-year and receive a majority vote from their house. Elections are held annually."
His tone hardened.
"Students at the bottom of their year will not advance. They will be reassigned immediately to military service."
Silence tightened.
"And remember," he added, voice cooling, "the academy does not interfere in minor student conflicts. If you have questions, ask now."
A hand rose in the front row.
"Yes?"
"We are six hundred first-year students," the boy said confidently. "If each of us holds one bronze badge, and we compete by collecting badges… does that mean only sixty students can enter the second year?"
A ripple of attention followed.
Humong laughed loudly.
"What is your name?"
"Gehon."
"Student Gehon," Humong said, nodding, "your calculation is quick. But incomplete."
He clasped his hands behind his back.
"Students must possess equal badge levels to compete directly. However, some among you will accumulate more badges. So no—perhaps not sixty."
His eyes sharpened.
"Maybe ten. Or fewer."
The hall shifted uneasily.
"In academy history," he continued calmly, "the minimum number advancing was thirty. The maximum, fifty. You may also challenge seniors if your badge level matches theirs. The academy releases missions that reward badges."
Voices erupted.
"This isn't fair!"
"There are too many restrictions!"
"Only captains graduate? Legacy families will just buy votes!"
Many of the loudest voices came from rural Earth sectors below Forty—regions forgotten by development. Places decades behind the central sectors.
Some students who had read the contract remained silent.
Others who had signed blindly turned pale.
"Yesterday I was bullied by a senior. I wanted to report it… but you just said the academy won't interfere."
"I struggled for years to pass the entrance exam. Now you say we might not even pass first year?"
Humong's expression darkened.
His brown eyes missed nothing—even whispers.
"Do you believe," he said slowly, "that we serve you full plates every day for free?"
The hall froze.
"You think the academy doesn't want you to graduate?" His voice grew heavier. "The Stellar Federation wants strong humans. But resources are limited. While you sit here consuming them, others bleed for them."
His gaze intensified.
"Even if you grow strong tomorrow, someone died today to buy you that chance."
The weight of war lingered in his words.
"Our enemies need only one mistake to erase us."
He exhaled sharply.
"This batch…" he muttered, almost to himself, "truly disappointing."
Then his tone shifted—dangerously calm.
"You claim the rules are unfair. If we removed badge restrictions, would you even survive?"
He pointed toward the balcony where upper-year students stood watching.
"Your seniors would strip you clean."
He raised a hand.
"Six hundred bronze badges equal sixty silver. Six gold. That is your total worth."
A pause.
"You want fairness?"
His eyes gleamed.
"Very well. For today only—until this ceremony ends—I remove the restriction."
The hall snapped to attention.
"You may challenge any senior present. Any house. Any year. No badge requirement."
Gasps spread like wildfire.
"More badges mean more merit points. More merit points mean more resources."
He stepped forward.
"I will personally add one thousand merit points to the winner."
Shock.
In the balcony, a senior whispered, "I've never seen the dean like this."
Another smirked. "These newcomers asked for it."
Below, the first-years turned toward the upper tiers.
The seniors met their eyes without flinching.
Sharp gazes.
Confident smiles.
Bodies that carried the silent aura of repeated refinement and battle.
The pressure was tangible.
Some first-years felt their throats tighten. The cultivation gap was obvious. A few exceptional ones believed they might survive against second-years—but winning?
That was another matter.
And even if they did… they would make enemies.
Humong scanned their frozen faces.
"No one?" he asked coldly. "Where is your courage?"
Silence.
"I add one thousand merit points."
Nothing.
His temper finally erupted.
"Is that still not enough? Do you want me to offer my daughter as well?!"
The hall went utterly still.
In the balcony, a young senior leaned toward a girl beside him.
"Little sister," he murmured teasingly, "Father seems desperate for a son-in-law. Prepare yourself."
He was rewarded with a vicious pinch to the arm.
Minutes passed.
Not a single hand rose.
The silence in the hall felt heavier than gravity itself.