In front of Brian stood a young man, about seventeen years of age, with an air of quiet intensity—Alon Chase, the main protagonist of the novel. He was no noble, nor was he of royal blood. Yet his magical power was off the charts, far surpassing the ordinary.
"And why should I move aside?" Alon asked, his face showing clear irritation.
"Because I told you to," Brian replied, his tone dripping with arrogance. "And if you don't, I'll make you."
The two locked eyes, a challenge sparking between them as the crowd around them hushed, all eyes drawn to the impending clash.
"Pfft!" Brian chuckled, a smug grin forming on his face. "Hey, Natsu!"
"Yes, boss!" A young man with spiky yellow hair and piercing black eyes stepped forward, his gaze as cold as ice. This was Natsu, Brian's right-hand man, who had been by his side since they were children. They shared a bond deeper than most noble and servant relationships, forged through shared childhoods and hardships. Natsu had lost his parents in a tragic accident, orchestrated by Brian's father, Norman FlamesWorth. Yet, here he was, loyal to the son of the man who had ruined his life.
Brian nudged his head towards Alon, clearly expecting Natsu to know him. "Do you know who this guy is?"
Natsu's eyes narrowed as he studied Alon. "Uh… I think his name is Alon Chase or something."
"Alon Chase?" Brian repeated, frowning. "That name doesn't ring a bell. What house are you from?" he asked, leaning in closer to Alon, his tone dismissive and cold.
"Uh… I don't think he's from any house, boss. Pretty sure he's a commoner," Natsu answered with a shrug, as though Alon's status was barely worth his attention.
Brian sneered, his expression twisting with disdain. "A commoner? You mean to tell me a mere commoner dares to challenge me?" He scoffed, his arrogance practically radiating from him. He began to unleash his mana, the air around him thickening with the raw energy he exuded. Most people would have buckled under the sheer weight of it, yet Alon stood his ground, completely unfazed. Instead, he smirked, and in response, he began releasing his own mana.
The air crackled as their energies clashed, the very ground beneath them trembling as if caught in the grip of a storm. The crowd took a step back, murmurs spreading as people realized that Alon—a mere commoner—was holding his own against Brian, a noble of renowned lineage.
"That's enough, both of you!" A firm voice cut through the tension. A young woman with vibrant pink hair and striking golden eyes strode forward, her face set in a disapproving frown. She was about 5'6", with a commanding presence that demanded attention. It was Natasha Sherrifield, another main character of the novel, and a formidable mage in her own right. She was a noble as well but not a descendant of the Archons.
At the sound of her voice, both Brian and Alon ceased their magical display. They looked around, noticing the crowd's curious and wary stares. Some were muttering curses, while others marveled at how a commoner like Alon could wield such power.
"That's right," Natasha continued, her gaze icy as it fixed on both of them. "Now clear your heads and think about your actions. You nearly destroyed the registration center with your antics."
Lean, standing a little way off, couldn't contain his excitement. "That's the scene I've been waiting for. It's just like in the novel, but seeing it in person is amazing!" he muttered to himself.
The man in the green robe, who had been observing from a distance, cleared his throat. "Alright, everyone! Let's get back in line. Registration will resume shortly."
He was one of the sub-mages, a rank similar to a city guard. Sub-mages had the responsibility of overseeing day-to-day protection but weren't tasked with handling major threats like the Fallens. That role fell to the higher mages, graduates of the academy who had passed their grueling three-year training and earned their right to defend the kingdom.
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With the registration complete, everyone received a card bearing a unique number—an entry ticket for the upcoming exam. Lose the card, and you were out, no second chances.
Lean knew that this was the time when people like Brian would begin to target others, aiming to sabotage their chances by stealing their entry cards. It was a ruthless tactic, but in a world where power determined fate, it was to be expected.
As Lean pocketed his card, he noticed Alon heading for the exit. Before he could slip away, Natasha caught up to him and tapped his shoulder.
"Hey," she said, flashing a bright smile. "Got a moment?"
"Uh, sure," Alon replied, a bit taken aback by her sudden friendliness.
Natasha extended her hand. "I know we didn't exactly get off to a great start, but I'm Natasha Sherrifield." Her smile was warm, disarming, a sharp contrast to the stern figure she had just shown moments before.
Alon took her hand cautiously. "Uh… Alon Cha—"
"Alon Chase! Yeah, I know," Natasha interrupted, her grin widening. She let out a nervous chuckle. "Sorry, I tend to get a bit excited."
"Right…" Alon muttered, shaking her hand briefly before pulling away. She seemed overly enthusiastic, but there was something earnest in her eyes that made him pause.
"The reason I stopped you," Natasha began, her tone turning serious, "is because I noticed something back there when you and Brian were… well, almost at each other's throats."
Alon folded his arms, a flicker of interest sparking in his gaze. "What about it?"
Natasha met his gaze, her golden eyes keen and probing. "Brian is a descendant of one of the Twelve Archons, and he was giving it his all. But you… it didn't seem like you were even trying. You were matching his level, but I could tell you were holding back. For a commoner to wield that kind of power… it's unheard of. You sure you're not hiding something? Noble? Royal?"
Alon's expression hardened. "I'm neither noble nor royal," he replied curtly, a note of finality in his voice. "Can I go now?"
Natasha, however, was undeterred. She leaned in, curiosity burning in her gaze. "If you're not a noble, and you're not royal… then what are you?"
Alon sighed, glancing up at the evening sky as if searching for an answer among the fading light. "I am…" He hesitated, the words lingering in the air, unspoken.