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The silence after Lyrium's trial hung heavy in the air, the echoes of his chaotic lightning still crackling faintly in the energy of the courtyard.
As he stepped back into the crowd, he could feel the weight of their whispers pressing against him.
"That was unstable… but powerful."
"Can someone like that even control his affinity?"
Lyrium's expression remained calm, his gaze steady as he looked toward the obelisk.
They can speculate all they want, he thought, crossing his arms.
He already knew whose name would be next—Margaret Illenia. It was only natural for someone like her to follow a performance like his.
The academy had a flair for drama, after all.
The faint glow of the parchment shimmered once more, and Headmistress Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard.
"Margaret Windsor."
The air shifted.
Whispers rippled through the crowd, this time not in doubt but in awe.
"Margaret Windsor? As in the royal family from Switzerland?"
"She's the Windsor heir. I heard she's already mastered multiple elements!"
"And... have you seen her? She's—"
"—perfect."
Lyrium's eyes flicked toward the crowd as it parted instinctively.
Margaret stepped forward, and even he had to admit she had an aura that was impossible to ignore.
Her beauty wasn't just striking—it was the kind that commanded attention without her having to utter a word.
Her long, jet-black hair fell in silky waves down her back, the dark strands gleaming faintly in the sunlight.
Her pale complexion seemed almost otherworldly, framed by the sharp angles of her face and the contrast of her piercing gray eyes.
Those eyes, cool and sharp like tempered steel, scanned the courtyard with a calmness that bordered on dismissive.
She didn't walk—she glided, her movements poised and deliberate, each step sending the impression that she already belonged on top.
Several of the boys in the crowd visibly stiffened, their faces tinged with admiration—or intimidation. Lyrium heard one mutter,
"She's like... a goddess."
"Forget a goddess," another whispered.
"She's untouchable."
Lyrium snorted quietly to himself. She knows exactly what effect she has on people.
Margaret's ceremonial uniform was perfectly tailored, the crimson and gold trim accentuating her regal presence.
"I already know nobles have different uniforms, but... Where is mine?" Lyrium just stared at the uniform that he was currently wearing
Even the obelisk seemed to hum with anticipation as she approached it. Without a flicker of hesitation, she placed her hand on its surface.
The reaction was immediate.
The obelisk erupted in a wave of crystalline light, its glow a dazzling silver that spiraled upward in elegant arcs.
The air around her grew colder as frost began to creep across the ground, the temperature dropping noticeably even for the spectators.
The trial manifested quickly—an intricate, shimmering glacier that towered above her, its jagged peaks sharp enough to cut.
The glacier came alive, hurling shards of ice at her with deadly precision.
But Margaret was prepared. She raised her hand, and a shimmering barrier of frost erupted around her, deflecting the shards effortlessly.
Her movements were graceful, almost hypnotic, as she advanced through the trial.
Every attack was met with calculated precision, her control over her element absolute.
Lyrium watched with narrowed eyes, studying her performance.
Where his trial had been chaotic and raw, hers was a masterclass in control. She wasn't just powerful—she was methodical, each step and motion a testament to her training.
The final challenge came when the glacier itself seemed to shift, its jagged peaks collapsing into an avalanche of ice that roared toward her.
Margaret stood her ground, her gray eyes narrowing as she summoned a column of frost that erupted from the ground, splitting the avalanche in two.
The shards of ice dissolved into glittering snowflakes, drifting harmlessly to the ground as the trial ended.
For a moment, the courtyard was silent, the sheer elegance of her performance leaving the spectators in awe.
Headmistress Emily inclined her head slightly, a rare gesture of approval.
"Well done, Margaret Windsor. Step back."
Margaret turned, her expression calm and composed as she walked back to the crowd.
She moved like royalty, her gaze distant, as if the rest of the students were beneath her notice.
But as she passed Lyrium, her sharp gray eyes flicked toward him, just for a moment.
Lyrium met her gaze without flinching.
There was no admiration in his expression, no nervous awe like the others.
He simply regarded her with the same quiet calculation he gave everyone else.
She turned away, disappearing back into the crowd.
"Show-off, but why was she staring at me?"
Lyrium muttered under his breath, though there was no real venom in the words.
Margaret wasn't just powerful—she was dangerous. And she knew it.
Emily's voice cut through the murmur of the crowd once more.
"Ren Sullivan."
The energy in the courtyard shifted again, this time to something lighter, almost dismissive.
A few students chuckled, the tension from Margaret's trial dissipating as they turned to see the boy who stepped forward.
Ren Sullivan was the opposite of Margaret in almost every way.
Where she radiated poise and control, Ren exuded an easygoing charm that seemed completely out of place among the tense, disciplined initiates.
His long red hair tumbled in wild waves around his shoulders, its fiery hue catching the sunlight in a way that made it seem to glow.
His golden eyes gleamed with a mischievous spark, and his grin was wide, unbothered by the disapproving glances of the others.
He walked with a casual, almost carefree swagger, his hands stuffed into his pockets as if this whole thing were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
"Ren Sullivan? That commoner?" someone who knew about Ren muttered.
"I heard he's from some backwater town. What's he doing here?"
Ren ignored the whispers, flashing a lopsided grin as he approached the obelisk.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, slouching slightly as he placed his hand on its surface with a lazy flick of his wrist.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the obelisk roared to life.
A burst of orange-red flames spiraled upward, twisting into the shape of a fiery serpent that circled Ren before snapping its jaws.
The trial manifested quickly—a field of fire that morphed into molten beasts, their bodies glowing with heat as they lunged at him.
Ren didn't flinch.
Instead, he grinned wider, his own flames roaring to life as he dodged and countered with reckless abandon.
His movements were unorthodox, almost playful, as he darted through the trial with an agility that bordered on careless.
But there was no denying the raw potential in his flames—they burned brighter, hotter, and wilder with every move.
At one point, he leapt into the air, twisting to avoid a molten claw, and laughed.
"This all you've got? Come on, I was hoping for a real challenge!"
The crowd stared, unsure whether to be impressed or baffled by his approach.
Ren wasn't just fighting the trial—he was enjoying it.
When the trial finally ended, Ren stood amidst the fading embers, slightly singed but still grinning.
He gave a mock bow to the crowd, earning a few scattered laughs.
Headmistress Emily's lips twitched, though it was hard to tell if it was approval or exasperation.
"Ren Sullivan. Step back."
Ren jogged back to the crowd, flashing a wink at anyone who was still staring.
When he passed Lyrium, he nudged him with an elbow.
"Not bad, huh? Think I made an impression?"
Lyrium blinked, caught off guard by the boy's easy familiarity.
"You certainly made something," he muttered.
Ren laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.
"That's the spirit!"
As Ren disappeared into the crowd, Lyrium sighed.
"Haa..... This guy, he is personality is as same as in the Novel"
The trials might have been over, but he had a sinking feeling the real challenges were only just beginning.
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