Five days later, Lusian arrived at Faldmord Academy, a small citadel located just outside the city of Acropolis. From the carriage window, he watched the long line of students and families waiting to register, then asked with a trace of impatience:
"Is this line going to take long?"
Albert chuckled softly, ruffling his hair with a paternal gesture.
"Good one, my lord."
The Douglas carriage took a separate entrance—reserved for high-ranking noble families—bypassing the crowd gathered at the main gate. At the reception, they were greeted by Vice Principal Axel Thompson, whose sharp gaze swept over Lusian… and Umber.
"Welcome to the academy. From this point onward, no external personnel are permitted inside. The safety of all students is guaranteed by the royal family," Axel announced firmly.
Albert gave a slight bow to Lusian and handed him a small magical ring.
"My lord, this is as far as I can go. This ring will allow me to locate you if you ever need to leave the academy. Please, don't wander off alone."
"I'm not a child, Albert," Lusian replied—though inwardly, he appreciated the concern.
When Lusian attempted to enter with his magical beast, Axel immediately refused.
"I'm sorry, Lord Douglas. We cannot allow you to bring your beast inside," he said rigidly.
Albert stepped forward, clearly irritated—but before things could escalate, Magnus Bourlance entered the hall.
His presence alone silenced the room. A Magister-Delta warrior, Magnus carried an authority that weighed heavily in the air.
Albert held his ground, memories flickering beneath his calm expression. Magnus—now the academy's director—had once been his rival. Back then, Albert had been the relentless one, always surpassing him in duels and trials. That rivalry had forged a mutual respect that still lingered, even now.
"You haven't trained your subordinates very well, Magnus," Albert said, his voice edged with anger.
"Albert, it's just a small misunderstanding," Magnus replied with a light laugh. "We're not about to stand in the young Douglas's way. I'd rather not see the duchess upset."
After a brief pause, Albert stepped back and took his leave.
With a simple gesture from Magnus, Lusian was allowed to enter—with Umber.
Once inside his assigned room, Lusian paused.
The luxury was… excessive.
Sofía had clearly made sure of that.
Servants moved quietly, arranging his belongings while he observed every detail. The schedule ahead was demanding: twenty-five days of intensive study, with only five days of rest over a four-month period.
After Lusian left, Magnus turned to Axel. His calm expression carried unmistakable authority.
"Axel," he said, "I know how you feel about the Douglases. But let me be clear—acting on personal resentment would be a disaster. No one controls that family. A direct clash would bring consequences we couldn't handle."
Axel clenched his fists, anger barely contained.
"I can't just stand by while—"
"Listen," Magnus cut him off sharply. "The academy cannot afford conflict with the Douglases. Their influence is too great. And the rumors surrounding them… any reckless move would put all of us at risk."
Axel swallowed, tension tightening his jaw.
"I understand… I'll keep it in mind."
"Good," Magnus nodded. "Stand firm—but control your fire. The academy's stability, and the students' safety, come first."
The following day, inside a four-story academic building, Class 1A waited for their instructor.
Lusian, Emily, and the rest—Nilson Stanley, Jaslin Erkhan, Cowick Briggs, Naomi Sneider, Summer Kessler, Darilyn Macallister, Kasper Bourlance, Abbel Brown, Jenna Mondring, Corwin Armett, Sandra Mondring, and Craig Denisse—stood attentive and silent.
"My name is Carla Baker, and I'll be your class supervisor for the next four months," she announced firmly.
"The first thing you need to understand is this: at Faldmord Academy, your status means nothing. You are all students here—and you will behave as such. You represent Class 1A."
She stepped forward, scanning each of them.
"Your position is not permanent," she continued. "If a student from a lower class demonstrates superior skill—in evaluations, duels, or internal missions—they will rise. And if you fall short, you will be replaced."
A tense silence filled the room.
Naomi raised her hand.
"How strong are the lower classes?"
"The academy ranks students based on strength, skill, and strategic potential," Carla explained. "There are five levels:
Class 1A: the elite. Legionnaires, warriors, or mages with exceptional ability. You are the peak of your generation.
Classes 1B through 1E: cadets who stood out during a month of intensive training. They are not weak—they are still developing."
Craig frowned.
"Do we have to interact with them?"
"Very little," Carla replied. "They'll be too busy trying to climb—or avoid falling further. But remember this: being in 1A does not make you superior. Here, rank is responsibility. Arrogance will be corrected… in combat."
Emily spoke up, curious.
"So if someone stands out, they can rise to our class?"
"Exactly," Carla nodded. "Every month, we review performance. A cadet who excels—or wins a qualifying match—can move up immediately."
Kasper lifted his gaze.
"And duels between classes?"
"They're essential," Carla said. "Lower classes may challenge higher ones once per month. You'll also fight among yourselves. Three matches within your specialization, one against the opposite. We evaluate skill, strategy, and growth."
Lusian, with subtle tension beneath his calm, asked:
"Professor… if conflict arises with a higher class, how is it handled?"
"In combat," Carla answered without hesitation. "But only once per month. That rule exists to maintain order—and prevent abuse."
With the explanation complete, Carla led them through the academy.
They passed through the art hall, the music room, the alchemy lab, the beast-taming classroom, the cafeteria…
…and finally, at the end of a long corridor—
the central library, open to all classes.