Chapter 15: The New Batch
The instructor, standing tall at the head of the academy grounds, scanned the sea of recruits before him. Nearly 1,800 students, all gathered for one purpose: to train, fight, and rise within the Empire's ranks. As he looked over them, a thought settled in his mind.
This might be the batch that surpasses the last Golden Generation.
The Golden Generation was the academy's pride, a group of recruits who had not only dominated their five years of training but had also proven themselves on the battlefield. Many of them were now on the front lines, leading the Empire's forces with unmatched skill. But this new group... there was something about them. The sheer talent radiating from the top recruits was undeniable.
He glanced down at the list of names in the top ten.
1st: Nathaniel Valencrown
2nd: Lysander Blackthorn
3rd: Arabelle Verdell
4th: Leon Tormund
5th: Freya Eldwyn
6th: Adrian Voss
7th: Kael Arden
8th: Arianne Drakos
9th: Hugo von Graye
10th: Isabelle Serin
The top ten students, already drawing whispers and chatter from the rest of the recruits, were a mix of both noble blood and rare commoner talent. Nathaniel, the emperor's son, and Arabelle, the duke's daughter, were no surprise at the top, but Kael Arden—seventh place—was a commoner. Rarely had a common-born recruit ranked so high on the first day. He would be one to watch.
The instructor's thoughts shifted to the competition ahead. If these ten stayed true to their early promise, the academy would be the perfect crucible to forge them into the Empire's next legendary warriors.
Damian stood among the crowd, his body still aching from the brutal obstacle course, though he masked it well. His face maintained its usual relaxed expression, but inside, his mind raced.
Kael Arden, huh? Damian thought to himself as he glanced toward the boy in seventh place. Is that the same kid from Fuschia village? I guess he really did make it here... always was talented, awakening aura so young.
His gaze lingered on Kael for a moment longer before he shifted his attention. His own rank—477th—still stung, but he buried the feeling deep.
Soon after, the instructor began assigning dorms. Damian was grouped with three others, all of whom had similarly middling ranks. They were led to their dormitory, a plain stone building that housed rows upon rows of shared rooms.
When they reached their room, Damian introduced himself. "Hey, I'm Damian. Guess we'll be stuck together for a while, huh?"
A taller boy with sandy hair nodded. "I'm Jory. Not too thrilled about all this, to be honest, but we're here now. Might as well make the best of it."
Another boy, smaller in stature with dark, messy hair, gave a lazy wave. "Name's Terrin. Just hoping to not die on the first day."
The last one, a quiet boy who barely looked up, introduced herself simply. "John."
The four of them settled into their room, the exhaustion of the day quickly overtaking them. Damian lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind running over everything that had happened. His body ached, but his thoughts were more focused on the upcoming challenges.
The next morning, the academy grounds were bustling as all the recruits gathered for the principal's welcoming speech. The air was filled with anticipation, and the tension was palpable.
The principal of the Academy of Arenthis, a tall and imposing figure, stepped onto the stage. His presence alone commanded respect, and the crowd of nearly 1,800 recruits fell silent as his eyes swept over them.
"I am General Kain Roose," the principal began, his voice calm but powerful. "A rank 7 aura practitioner and the Sword Saint of the Empire. Welcome to the Academy of Arenthis."
The title of Sword Saint echoed through the crowd, stirring a mix of awe and fear. A rank 7 aura user was considered one of the strongest in the Empire, their abilities far surpassing the average noble or general.
"You have all been chosen to train here, but understand this—only the best will rise. Here at Arenthis, we operate on a merit system. Your rank will dictate the privileges you enjoy, from the quality of your meals to the training resources at your disposal. And for those of you who aspire to greatness, ranking at the top of your class will grant you unparalleled opportunities within the Empire."
Damian listened intently, the word merit sparking something within him. So, it all comes down to how hard I'm willing to work, huh?
General Roose continued, "For those of you ambitious enough, you may challenge those ranked above you. However, there are rules. If you challenge someone far below your rank and win, you will lose merit. We do not tolerate bullies here. But if you challenge someone above you and succeed, you will rise in rank. The stronger you are, the better your rewards. The weaker you remain, the more you will suffer."
Damian's eyes narrowed. This was an opportunity—a system designed to allow the strong to climb. But it also meant that the nobles, with their superior bloodlines and natural talent, would always have an edge.
"Your five years here will test your limits," General Roose said. "At the end of your training, only the most exceptional among you will go on to become officers, commanders, and perhaps even royal guards. The rest... will serve the Empire in other ways."
The crowd remained silent as the weight of his words settled in.
"Now," he concluded, "you will be divided into four classes: A, B, C, and D. Each class will be a mix of high and low-ranking recruits to ensure balance and competition. Discrimination based on rank or background will not be tolerated."
Damian raised an eyebrow at that. No discrimination? He knew the nobles would find ways around that. Even if the academy claimed to be fair, there were always loopholes. In the Empire, power and status never truly leveled the playing field.
The students were dismissed, and after a short lunch break, they gathered in their assigned classrooms. Damian found himself in Class B, a relatively large classroom filled with rows of desks. As he entered, he noticed a few familiar faces, including Kael Arden and—much to his surprise—Arabelle Verdell.
She glanced his way and smiled mischievously, a knowing look in her eyes that made Damian uneasy.
Why is she smiling at me like that? he thought, taking a seat.
As he sat down, the students around him buzzed with excitement.
"We're in the same class as Arabelle Verdell!" one of the boys whispered to his friend. "The duke's daughter! Can you believe it?"
"Maybe if I impress her, I can get close to the duke's family," another boy murmured, his eyes filled with ambition.
Damian rolled his eyes but remained quiet, his mind still focused on Kael, who sat a few rows ahead of him, seemingly lost in thought. His ranking had shocked everyone, but Damian knew there was more to Kael than met the eye.
Before long, their instructor arrived. A stern man with a scar running down his cheek, his presence immediately commanded the room's attention. His aura, though subdued, was still powerful—rank 5, Damian guessed.
"My name is Sergeant Halford," the man introduced himself. "I've fought on the frontlines for years, and I can tell you this—what you think you know about battle, forget it. Your rankings from the entrance exam are nothing more than numbers on a board. They are not official, and they will change. Don't get complacent."
He swept his gaze over the room, his scarred face hard and unyielding. "If you think you're special because you ranked in the top ten, or because you're a noble, I'll disabuse you of that notion real quick. Here, the only thing that matters is who survives."
Damian sat up straighter, his attention fully on Sergeant Halford. The man's words resonated with him. Rankings weren't everything, and even those at the bottom could rise.
"Over the next few weeks," Sergeant Halford continued, "you will undergo tests, drills, and evaluations. Your rank will fluctuate, and some of you won't make it. But for those who endure, the rewards will be worth it."
As the class settled into a tense silence, Damian clenched his fists beneath the desk.