Grand Arcanum Academy –
The morning lecture on Spirit Magic had left the academy buzzing.
Excited whispers filled the halls as students left the Grand Lecture Hall, making their way toward their next class—Combat Training.
For many, today was special.
Because today, they would choose their Weapon Art.
A decision that would shape their combat style for life.
***
The academy's training grounds were vast, stretching over several kilometers of fortified space.
Walking toward them, groups of students were engaged in heated discussions about their bonded spirits.
"Did you see Kieran also have an bonded spirit."
"Yes, Sylvara's bonded spirit was expected—Elves always get strong ones."
"But what about Vaelthorne?"
"Who?"
"The exiled one."
At the mention of Alistair, voices lowered.
Even among the nobility, his presence was different.
No one truly understood what he had just awakened.
And that uncertainty made them wary.
****
Leon Valerius walked with his usual arrogant confidence, but beneath it—his mind was racing.
The last week had been frustrating.
First, Alistair had shown strength far beyond his rank.
Then, he had demonstrated aura , something even upper-year students struggled with.
And now—he had a bonded spirit.
Leon gritted his teeth.
'How far ahead is he?'
'What is the gap between us?'
Beside him, Rael Thunderfang, the Beastkin Prince, noticed the tension.
"Still thinking about him?" Rael smirked.
Leon clicked his tongue. "Hmph."
Rael chuckled. "You'll drive yourself insane if you keep comparing everything to him."
Leon's jaw clenched.
Rael wasn't wrong.
But Leon hated losing.
Especially to Alistair.
A little ahead, Princess Evelyn Aurelius walked beside Elaine Vaelthorne and Morganna Draven.
Unlike the others, they weren't whispering about Alistair.
They were talking about spirits.
Elaine smiled slightly. "I wasn't expecting a bonded spirit, to be honest."
Morganna smirked. "I was."
Elaine raised an eyebrow. "You were expecting me to have one?"
"No." Morganna grinned. "I was expecting me to have one."
Elaine rolled her eyes while Evelyn laughed softly.
Morganna's dark aura was one of the strongest in the academy.
If anyone was meant to have a cursed spirit, it was her.
Evelyn tilted her head. "What do you think about Alistair's?"
The question made them pause.
Elaine's expression remained neutral, but Morganna's eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Strange, isn't it?" Morganna mused. "He's bathed in abyssal power, yet his spirit shines with light."
Evelyn's lips pressed together.
The Alistair she had known before his exile had been different.
But the Alistair standing before them now?
A cold shadow of his former self.
Morganna sighed dramatically. "Well, whatever it is, we'll find out sooner or later."
Elaine nodded. "Let's focus on the next class. We still need to choose our Weapon Arts."
The students finally arrived at the Combat Training Arena.
A massive coliseum-like structure, reinforced with enchantment sigils and barrier formations.
Waiting for them in the center—was a giant.
Standing in the middle of the arena, arms crossed, was Ignatius Pyros.
The Dragonkin Instructor.
A towering figure of molten bronze skin and golden reptilian eyes.
His mere presence made the air feel hotter.
The students fell silent the moment they stepped inside.
Ignatius grinned, his sharp teeth glinting.
"Good. At least you know when to shut up."
His voice was like a war drum, deep and booming.
He turned, pacing before the assembled students.
"You weaklings have lasted a week. Congratulations."
"But strength is not just power."
"Strength comes from how well you wield it."
He stopped in front of them.
"Today, you choose your path."
His golden eyes glowed.
"Today, you choose your Weapon Art."
***
Ignatius raised a massive battle-axe with a single hand, spinning it effortlessly.
"Weapon Arts are the foundation of every warrior."
"They dictate your fighting style, your technique, and how you kill."
"There are many types—swords, spears, axes, bows, daggers, warhammers… The list goes on."
He slammed the axe into the ground.
"Once you choose a Weapon Art, you will train in it for life."
"Mastery of a Weapon Art is what separates a true warrior from a fool swinging a blade."
The students listened intently.
For some, this decision would be easy.
For others, it could make or break their future.
***
Alistair stood at the back of the group, silent.
Unlike the others, he didn't care.
His Weapon Art had already been decided long ago.
Luner Swordsmanship
Verdant Blade Style art of House Vaelthorne.
But he knew that this moment was important for others.
Leon was standing near the front, eyes locked onto Ignatius.
The Golden Hero.
Always trying to prove himself.
Always thinking about the distance between them.
Alistair found it amusing.
Leon wasn't weak.
But his biggest weakness?
"He cares too much."
Leon was obsessed with chasing power.
Obsessed with closing the gap.
But the truth?
Leon would never reach him.
Ignatius Continued speaking.
Ignatius looked over the class.
"In this academy, you will not just learn combat techniques."
"You will learn how to kill."
The words were blunt—but true.
"Over the next few weeks, each of you will train under a master of your chosen Weapon Art."
"Some of you will thrive."
"Some of you will fail."
His golden reptilian eyes glowed.
"And the weak?"
He bared his sharp teeth.
"Will be left behind."
The students swallowed nervously.
Ignatius raised a clawed hand and pointed toward the far end of the training grounds.
"Come."
"It is time to choose."
And with that, the students followed him toward the Weapon Art selection chamber.
A moment that would shape the future of warriors.
For some, this was an opportunity.
For others, a gamble.
For Leon—it was another step toward surpassing Alistair.
---
(To Be Continued...)