The dawn sky shimmered in soft hues of lavender and gold as Kieran stepped into the Trial Grounds of Valeborne. The city's outer field had been transformed overnight into a sprawling arena of tents, platforms, and wards — all meticulously prepared for the start of the Magic Academy Entrance Exam.
There were hundreds of candidates, maybe more. Boys and girls aged anywhere between twelve to sixteen had gathered from across the kingdoms, clad in garments that whispered of their origins — silken robes embossed with crests, worn tunics with hand-stitched runes, sturdy leather coats from the frontier. Some came with retinues, guards, or attendants. Others arrived alone, like Kieran.
A gentle wind stirred the air, tinged with anticipation, anxiety, and ambition.
Kieran kept to the side as he walked past groups already forming. His dark cloak fluttered behind him, plain but functional. The System remained dormant but responsive in his mind — a low hum of potential waiting to surge forward.
[System Notification]Passive Scan Active.Number of participants detected: 721.Magical Affinity Range: F-tier to A-tier.Threat Level: Minimal.Note: Concealment Mode Enabled.
'Good,' Kieran thought, glancing around. 'Let's keep it that way.'
He moved with the easy steps of someone who belonged but didn't need to prove it — invisible and undisturbed. Just how he liked it.
The Nobles and Their Pride
The central square of the Trial Grounds buzzed with noise as a cluster of finely dressed teenagers took the spotlight. They stood at the center of the candidate staging area, encircled by admiring looks and curious whispers.
A tall boy with golden-blond hair and sharp blue eyes stood at their front, leaning lazily against a polished walking cane adorned with a Lunar Crest. His name echoed like a bell in the crowd:
Leonhart Duskveil — Heir to the Duskveil Marquisate, one of the Five High Houses of Aetheryn.
"You'd think they'd separate the commoners from us," Leonhart said, voice smooth but biting. "This gathering smells like damp straw."
Behind him stood a few others:
Seraphina Liora — silver-haired and statuesque, daughter of the High Priestess of the Sanctum of Everlight.
Brynwald Corven — a grim-looking boy from the martial House Corven, arms folded as if sizing up everyone as potential foes.
Velia de Martaine, shorter and sly, whispered something behind a fan, her violet eyes glittering with mischief.
They were nobles, yes, but more than that — they were prodigies. Each of them had been raised in prestigious bloodlines, trained by court mages, tutored by scholars, and blessed with every advantage.
But as Kieran passed them by unnoticed, none spared him a second glance.
Just as planned.
The Commoners and the Dreamers
Beyond the noble circles, the atmosphere was different. Tighter groups of commoners stood together, their voices hushed with nervous excitement. There were children of merchants, blacksmiths, hunters, and even wandering herbalists — all daring to chase a dream.
One group in particular caught Kieran's attention.
A dark-skinned boy with messy curls was juggling three small stones imbued with minor flame runes. The sparks danced in the air, drawing the admiration of a small crowd.
"Don't worry!" the boy laughed. "If we fail the exams, I'll just start a roadside magic show. Or become a fireworks merchant. Good fallback plan, no?"
Name: Riven of HollowbrookBackground: Street performer, minor Flame affinity.Personality: Outgoing, humorous, self-deprecating.Threat Level: None.
Beside him stood a shorter girl with sharp eyes and tied-back auburn hair, clutching a notebook to her chest.
"Stop wasting mana, idiot," she muttered. "You'll fail the exam before it starts."
Name: Lyra MirkvaleBackground: Village apothecary's daughter, strong Memory-type magical trait.Intelligence: High. Mana Affinity: Unknown.Threat Level: Moderate (Potential-based).
Kieran paused a moment. He could sense something… promising.
These two — while not noble — had that spark. The kind of people he could use in the future. Whether as allies, tools, or even recruits for his secret organization… he would watch them closely.
The Overseers
A hush fell over the gathering as a robed figure stepped onto the raised stone platform at the center of the field.
An Academy Overseer — tall, lean, with a short, silver beard and robes that shimmered with embedded runes. His staff, carved from darkheart wood, struck the ground once with a crack that echoed across the grounds.
"Candidates," he said, voice magnified by magic. "Welcome to the Valeborne Academy Entrance Examination."
Every head turned. Every mouth silenced.
"You stand on sacred ground. For the next seven days, you will face the Trials of Worth. They are not merely tests of magic, but of character, control, and discipline. Nobility, common birth, foreign or local — here, all stand equal under the Academy's gaze."
Murmurs rippled through the noble cluster. Leonhart Duskveil rolled his eyes, while Seraphina Liora remained still and unreadable.
"Your first trial begins tomorrow. Today, you will be assigned quarters, briefed on rules, and given your first written assessment: a Mana Theory Diagnostic, to gauge your magical foundations. You may speak freely, make allies or enemies, but remember — nothing here goes unnoticed."
[System Notification]Passive Scan Complete.Overseer "Thalon" – Grade A Arcanist. Affiliation: Valeborne Faculty – Department of Theory.Recommendation: Avoid drawing attention.
Kieran's lips twitched slightly.
'No problem there.'
The Quiet Watcher
Kieran was assigned a shared tent on the outer ring of the encampment. His tent-mates were two commoners — both quiet, unassuming types. They gave him awkward greetings, which he returned with a polite nod. It was fine. He wasn't here to bond.
That night, under the glow of arcane lanterns, Kieran sat on his cot and pulled out a worn book of local theory he had purchased for a single silver. He didn't need it — not with the System feeding him encyclopedic knowledge — but appearances mattered.
Across the camp, laughter, whispers, even some magical light shows filled the sky. Noble and commoner alike were sizing each other up. Forming groups. Sowing rivalries. Kieran ignored it all.
He sat silently, eyes half-closed, and accessed the System's scan data again.
So many names. So many sparks. So much potential.
And none of them had a clue who they were standing next to.
"This is the beginning," Kieran murmured. "Let them dance, brag, and fight. I'll remain in the shadows… and by the time they see me—"
He smiled to himself.
"It'll be far too late."