"I can only see one," someone said, slightly nervous.
"I see three," another chimed in, sounding smug.
"They glow differently," another noted, pointing to the slight variations in hue among the visible staves.
Austin remained quiet. He saw nothing.
His gaze swept across the sky, searching, waiting, but no matter how hard he focused, the air above him remained void of any sign of the floating staves.
A frown tugged at his lips. Is it because I haven't been here long enough? Or… Then, a thought struck him. He let out a slow breath and activated Mana Vision, channeling mana directly into his eyes.
The change was immediate.
A blinding cascade of staves—hundreds upon hundreds—suddenly snapped into view. Unlike the faint glow others had described, what Austin saw was something far more chaotic.
The staves began moving away from Austin.
The other students noticed almost immediately. A few gasped, watching in disbelief as the other staves overhead shook unnaturally.
"What's happening?" someone whispered.
Austin remained still, uncertain of what had just happened. He glanced at the professor, confused, but the professor only smiled before continuing.
"Now," the professor's voice rang out, playful but authoritative. "We will commence the Staff Succession Ceremony."
A hush fell over the first-years.
The professor took a slow step forward. "Close your eyes," he instructed. "And feel your mana—from the inside."
The students followed obediently, shutting their eyes as they focused inward.
For some, it was easy—they could sense their mana as a faint warmth spreading through their bodies, a quiet hum that had always been with them.
For others, it was more difficult, like trying to grasp a wisp of smoke.
Austin, however, immediately detected his mana. It pulsed, vast and endless, stretching into unseen depths. But he didn't dwell on it.
This was just the first step.
After a few moments, the professor gave the next instruction. "Now, reach out and call for your forth your future partner."
Even with their eyes closed, some student instinctively stretched a hand upward, palms open toward the sky.
While some imagined reaching out in their minds.
And then—a sudden rush of wind swept through the arena.
Not just stirring their robes but the wind also responding to their presence. It howled softly, like a whisper between the unseen staves and their future masters.
None of the first-years saw what happened next. But the upperclassmen did.
Fom a third-party perspective, the scene was nothing short of magical.
Yet, the first-years remained unaware, their only experience being the wooshing sound around them, their silent wishes for the best staff they could receive.
Then there's silence.
Finally, the professor's voice cut through the trance.
"Open your eyes."
A thunderous applause erupted the moment they did.
Startled, the freshmen turned to the source of the noise—only to see their seniors standing around them in the arena grounds, cheering for them with open admiration.
The second-years in particular were the loudest. Some of them even had their hands clasped together in awe.
One of the first-years, confused by their reaction, turned to a nearby senior. "What… What did it look like?"
A knowing smile spread across the senior's face. "You'll find out next school year."
The freshmen collectively slumped their shoulders in disappointment.
Amidst the excitement, however, some of the first-years overheard murmurs among the seniors.
"Did you see it?" one asked.
"Yeah… Someone did not get a staff at all."
Whispers spread quickly. The freshmen instinctively followed the seniors' line of sight—until their gazes landed on someone. A wave of confusion rippled through them.
"Austin Scharf didn't receive a staff?" Someone whispered.
"That didn't make sense."
He had dominated the Entrance Examination, shocking everyone with his score.
Many had already placed high expectations on him.
Some of the freshmen turned to the seniors, hesitant. "Are you sure? Him?"
But the seniors only nodded solemnly.
Professor Fuchs continued, "Once a Magian bonds with a staff, they achieve a perfect union. A perfect union occurs when the Magian's mana and the staff's core resonate as one, merging them into a single, unified source. To put it simply, the staves are now dormant inside your mana core."
That statement caught everyone off guard.
"Inside… us?" a student echoed.
The professor nodded. "You will need to summon them. How? That is for you to figure out since it's different for each Magian."
A moment of silence followed.
Then—a burst of light flared from the students.
The first emergence came from Aidan.
A warm, white glow surrounded him, a contrast to his fiery demeanor.
But just as people began to wonder about the gentleness of his mana, the warmth shifted—erupting into searing red flames.
The fire twisted and condensed, until finally—a staff materialized in his grasp.
Aidan's staff was of dark crimson, its shape reminiscent of a roaring fire. The top curled slightly, holding a red orb, resembling a flickering flame, and along the shaft were faint, ember-like patterns that pulsed with heat.
The crowd murmured in admiration.
Then, a second burst of light. This time, it was from the girl who had thrown up earlier.
Her light was sharp, quick, and fleeting—a brief flash of yellow before her staff appeared in her grasp.
Hers was simpler than Aidan's, but no less eye-catching. It has a slender and unmistakable design of a rod—featuring intricate engravings along its shaft. A crackling silver gem at the top that emits sparks glowed faintly, pulsing as if analyzing its new owner.
The ceremony gained momentum.
One by one, students began summoning their staves, though some struggled more than others.
Some required intense concentration, while others found theirs appearing almost naturally.
Lucian's staff finally manifested—a plain, chalk-white staff, almost eerily plain and simple.
Egbert's was a bit peculiar—a sharp blade-like staff, carrying the presence of a weapon.
As the number of summoned staves grew, attention naturally drifted back to Austin.
But he… Had nothing. He stood there, expression unreadable, hands empty.
And as realization dawned, whispers spread once more.
"Wait, he still hasn't summoned his?"
"Is that normal?"
"I thought he'd be one of the first to succeed…"
"So it's true that he didn't get any staff at all?"
Doubt slowly crept into the students' eyes.
For the first time since the entrance exams a month before today, Austin's capabilities were being questioned.
A student hesitated before raising their hand. "Professor… is it possible for someone to not receive any staff during the ceremony?"
The question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been.
The professor's gaze swept over the expectant faces before he nodded. "Yes. It is possible."
Murmurs spread among the students.
A second student followed up, "Then… has it happened this year?" he asked while obviously staring at Austin.
The professor exhaled. "Yes. There was one student who did not resonate with a staff."
That was all he said, but the students didn't need more than that. Their eyes instinctively darted toward Austin.
Whispers started again, but this time they were quieter—uncertain.
The professor sighed. "Before you make any assumptions, let me make one thing clear." He paused, ensuring every student was listening. "Not receiving a staff does not mean one is unworthy."
Some of the freshmen looked skeptical.
The professor continued, voice unwavering, "A staff is not a mere tool—it is an extension of the wielder. If no staff resonated with someone, it is not necessarily a rejection. Perhaps… it is because that person deserves something much, much greater."
The words were meant to be reassuring, yet the freshmen's expressions showed lingering doubts.
Austin, however, didn't react. He simply stood there, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
The professor, sensing that nothing he said could fully shift the students' perceptions, decided to move forward.
"Now then," he announced, "it's time to introduce you to the four Archons of the Academy."
At his cue, four figures stepped forward from the gathered upperclassmen.
Each carried a commanding presence, standing tall as they faced the freshmen.