Ignatia made her way through the Grand Assembly Hall toward the designated seating area for noble heirs. Her fingers brushed against the plush velvet of the chair reserved for House Vermillion—soft, expensive, and clearly crafted by master artisans.

It was fresh-made. Recent. Someone had gone to considerable expense to have these custom seats delivered to the Academy just for today's orientation.

Of course, she thought with bitter amusement. The Academy prided itself on being neutral ground—no special treatment for royalty, no different accommodations based on birth or wealth. Every student was supposed to be equal within these walls.

But neutrality also meant the Academy couldn't say anything about what students chose to bring with them.

So the nobles brought comfort. Convenience. Power.

Royalty arrived with custom furniture, magical artifacts, personal servants, and enough gold to buy small kingdoms. They brought centuries of accumulated advantages wrapped in silk and sealed with family crests.

And what did commoners bring?

Books passed down from parents who'd saved for years to afford them. Maybe an old sword that had seen three generations of use. Dreams of survival. Hope for a better quality of life. The desperate wish that their children might climb just one rung higher on society's ladder.

They could never match a noble's prestige, Ignatia reflected coldly. All they can do is crawl and survive and reproduce. That's all they're worth.

The nobles sitting together formed a closed circle—an exclusive club that commoners could observe from the outside but never truly join. Bloodlines, connections, inherited power... these things created walls that talent alone couldn't breach.

But then why hadn't Prince Agni and Lady Lyralei followed the expected protocol? Why were they sitting in the commoner section instead of taking their rightful places among the elite?

Because I know the answer, Ignatia realized with growing frustration. It's the difference between the powerful and the weak, even among nobles.

House Vermillion was one of the twelve ducal houses, yes. But House Valen stood above them all as the Grand Duke's family. Lyralei didn't need to prove her status by sitting in a fancy chair—her very presence was enough to command respect. And Prince Agni? He was royalty. He could sleep in a gutter and still outrank everyone in this room.

The difference between those born to rule and those born to serve them.

Ignatia squeezed her eyes shut,obvious things were least of her concern.

She approached the cluster of ornate seats where the other noble heirs were waiting. Their eyes turned toward her expectantly, curiosity and calculation flickering across their faces.

"Greetings from Prince Agni," she said formally, delivering the message with the proper diplomatic courtesy. "He sends his regards and says he looks forward to meeting you all at a later time."

The words landed like stones in still water. Three of the heirs sighed almost simultaneously, though they maintained their respectful facades. These were people trained from birth in court politics—they knew how to hide disappointment behind proper etiquette.

But not everyone had that level of self-control.

"Why didn't Prince—" a male voice started to say.

Ignatia's heterochromatic eyes snapped toward the speaker with laser focus. The young black haired man startled as if he'd been physically struck, quickly shutting his mouth and offering a hasty bow.

"I apologize for speaking out of turn," he stammered.

Ignatia took her seat without acknowledging his apology. Around her, the other heirs settled back into their cushioned chairs, but the tension remained thick in the air,she could feel their eyes on her—curious, calculating, judging.

Her gaze drifted back to the one who'd spoken so carelessly ,who commanded attention simply by existing: the heir of House Aurelian. Michael Aurelian was everything Ignatia both admired and resented—jet-black hair that seemed to absorb light, golden eyes that sparkled with inherited wealth and confidence, and the easy bearing of someone who'd never doubted their place in the world.

Another sole heir, like me, Privileged, she thought with a spike of resentment. Far more privileged than me, just for being born a man.

"Why didn't you melt her face off?" a voice whispered behind her

Ignatia's eyes sharpened dangerously. She didn't turn around—she knew exactly who was speaking.

"Are you listening to yourself?" she hissed back, "You want me to pick a fight with the Grand Duke's daughter in front of a prince? In public?"

She paused, letting the implications sink in.

"Why don't you do it yourself if it's such a brilliant idea?"

"Coward," the voice responded with cruel satisfaction. "Did we select you to get humiliated like this? Either fulfill your duties or step aside for someone who will."

Ignatia's eyes closed, her hands clenching into fists in her lap. "Shut up," she whispered through gritted teeth.

Meanwhile, across the hall in the commoner section, a very different drama was unfolding.

Agni's mouth was hanging open, a small stream of drool running down his chin and staining his Academy uniform shirt. His head had tilted to one side at an uncomfortable angle, and soft snoring sounds were escaping his nose.

"Get up, Agni!" Lyralei's voice was sharp with frustration.

When words failed to rouse him, she took more direct action—smacking his right thigh with enough force to wake the dead.

Agni's eyes popped open so wide they nearly fell out of his skull, and he shot upright with a pained hiss. "Ow, ow, ow! What the hell was that for?!" He rubbed his thigh frantically, trying to massage away the sting.

Lyralei grinned with obvious satisfaction. "We have to attend the Class Selection Hunt. Let's get going."

"Alright, alright," Agni groaned, still working the soreness out of his leg. "What a literal pain... So what's this about? Do we just draw lottery numbers or something?"

His voice held a note of desperate hope.

Lyralei shook her head firmly. "No such luck. There's a practical test followed by a written examination."

"Great," Agni muttered, glancing around the assembly hall. Several professors were glaring at him from the stage, their expressions ranging from disapproval to outright disgust. "What's up with them? They're looking at me like I personally insulted their ancestors."

"I'm sure the professors are looking forward to this," Lyralei said dryly

"You sleeping through the orientation speech probably didn't help your reputation."

"So where do we go for this test?" Agni asked, standing up and stretching.

"They're going to teleport us directly from the orientation hall," Lyralei explained. "Mass transportation magic—it's one of the Academy's specialties."

She fixed him with a serious look. "Listen, since you skipped everything important, I'll make this simple: focus on killing as many monsters as possible. The stronger they are, the better your score. We both need to reach S-Class, which requires at least one thousand points."

Her voice dropped to a warning tone. "Don't do anything worse than embarrass yourself."

Professor Marcus stepped forward on the stage, his voice amplified by the Acoustic Enhancement Crystal. "All students, prepare for transportation!"

"Wait, how many points did you say—?" Agni started to ask.

The world dissolved around them.

In the sudden silence that followed the mass teleportation, Professor Marcus stood alone on the stage and sighed heavily.

"What a batch of students this year," he muttered, shaking his head.

Professor Vincent Gearwright materialized beside him, augmentations whirring softly. "Indeed. Though I suspect they'll be memorable."

Professor Lydia Starweaver "A generation of successors! These batches are always amazing to watch." Her elf ears twitched with excitement.

"Lazy and arrogant as well," Professor Helena Brewmaster added bluntly, arms crossed as she surveyed the empty hall.

Professor Gareth Ironforge's fist glowed with magical energy as he grinned. "Come then! Let's see how these younglings handle real combat!"

"Please don't end up killing any students," Professor Sylvia sighed, though her tone suggested this was a recurring concern.

Professor Whisper Nightshade materialized from the shadows, her movements unnaturally fluid. "If they can't clear this basic test," she murmured, "it will only get more difficult from here."

The faculty made their way to the Monitoring Control Room, filled with Scrying Crystals displaying the testing grounds.

"Alright, let's see what we're working with," Professor Marcus said.

Professor Gareth gestured to a senior student with long purple hair. "Loren, report!"

"All three hundred students have landed safely in the five zones," Loren announced. "Monsters range from F-grade to A-grade throughout."

Professor Marcus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Monitor the situation carefully. If any student loses consciousness or is in serious danger, teleport them back immediately."

The main display flickered to life, showing multiple views of the testing zones:

Zone 1: Verdant Meadows - The cameras showed Lyralei perched gracefully in a tree, her black hair contrasting against the green foliage.

Zone 2: The Burning Wastes - Ignatia stood motionless in a desert landscape as a massive dust storm approached in the distance.

Zone 3: Frostwind Tundra - Serina was walking carefully through knee-deep snow, her breath visible in the frigid air as arctic winds whipped past her.

Zone 4: Ironhold Fortress - Prince Cassius sat on an ancient stone throne inside what appeared to be a ruined castle, looking perfectly at ease.

Zone 5: Shadowmere Forest - The cameras showed Lilly groaning as she picked herself up from a mud puddle, while behind her, Vera was snickering at her friend's misfortune. The trees around them stretched impossibly high, their canopy blocking out most of the sunlight.

"First point scored goes to..." Professor Vincent announced, consulting his Enchanted Score Tablet as combat began across all zones. "Student Lyralei! Sixty-one points!"

Every teacher's attention focused on Zone 1's display.

Lyralei leaped from her tree and slammed her leg into the ground. The earth cracked, launching everything in a thirty-foot radius airborne—grass, rocks, and several monsters.

While everything was airborne, Lyralei grabbed handfuls of stones and hurled them with inhuman precision. Each projectile found its mark, striking the heads of various creatures:

• A Razorhorn Elk

• Two Grassland Raptors

• A Meadow Hound

• A Plains Griffin

• Three Stampede Boars

The bunch of (C-grade) monsters stood no chance against her overwhelming strength and tactical thinking. They were dead before they hit the ground.

As the dust settled, Lyralei's expression grew contemplative. She rubbed her hair thoughtfully, clearly working through some internal calculation.

A massive Bullhorn Rhino came charging at her from the tree line, its horn gleaming with metallic sharpness. Before it could close even half the distance, a horizontal line of pure black energy sliced through the air.

The creature split cleanly in two, both halves sliding apart and crashing to the ground.

"Ah, what if he doesn't make a thousand points?" Lyralei muttered to herself, 

"Damn it, I should have explained the scoring system better."

She sighed in frustration. "Honestly, I can't babysit that idiot forever."

After a moment's consideration, she shrugged. "Let me scan my zone while collecting points. If I happen to run into him, I'll help him score somehow. But..."

Her expression shifted to a wicked grin. "Actually, let's just forget about him for now."

She began blitzing through the zone with terrifying efficiency, punching straight through Stone Golems that should have required careful strategy to defeat. Her raw physical power was simply overwhelming.

"So this is the highest level freshman we have this year?" Professor Whisper mused, watching the display with professional interest.

"She seems to be enjoying herself," Professor Luna Silverpaw observed with a grin. "Perfection!"

A Grand Treant—an A-grade monster over thirty feet tall—burst from the forest, swinging massive branch-arms at Lyralei.

She caught both branches bare-handed.

The ground cracked under the impact, but Lyralei held firm. Then she uprooted the entire creature, swung it like a club against rocks and trees until it splintered, and hurled the remains fifty meters away. Its glowing core ripped apart on impact.

"Playful as always," she hummed.

That's when her eyes widened at the sight of something new—a Giant Wyvern, another A-grade monster, diving toward the crash site where the Grand Treant's remains were scattered.

Lyralei got into a combat stance, black lightning beginning to form around her hands

But before she could engage, the Giant Wyvern suddenly crashed into the debris—not from her attack, but because something had struck it from above.

Through the dust, Lyralei spotted a blonde figure with a massive battle axe, casually beheading both the wounded wyvern and a rising Cave Troll in one swing.

Draekon landed gracefully in front of the corpses, a soft smile on his face. "Sorry for stealing your prey," he said with genuine politeness.

Lyralei chuckled, her lightning dissipating. "Are you fine with killing your relatives?" she asked, gesturing toward the dead wyvern.

Draekon laughed good-naturedly. "That's offensive—dragons are elegant creatures of wisdom and power. Wyverns just make decent pets when properly trained."

He grinned as his mind raced with strategic thoughts: So my zone connects to hers, just like in the game. Perfect opportunity to use meta-knowledge and build affinity...

Professor Gareth whistled appreciatively at the display. "So our Hero isn't lacking in strength either, it seems."

"Indeed," Professor Marcus agreed, updating the scoring display.

The current score display updated:

• Student Draekon: 201 points

• Student Lyralei: 140 points

• Student Cassius: 102 points

"All the top students seem to be enjoying this competition," Professor Sylvia clapped her hands softly.

"Some more than others," Professor Helena sighed, glancing at a different monitor.

The display switched to Zone 3, showing a very different scene.

Prince Agni was lying flat on his back in the snow, his arms spread wide as he stared up at the gray sky. He was visibly frozen solid, ice crystals forming on his uniform and eyebrows.

Serina Frostwind was approaching him cautiously through the snow drifts, her footsteps crunching loudly in the arctic silence.

Professor Helena's tablet showed the relevant scores with depressing clarity:

• Student Agni: 0 points

• Student Serina: 54 points

"Well," Professor Helena said with a heavy sigh, "Student Agni clearly has no intention of participating in this competition."

The faculty had very mixed reactions to this observation.

"Well," Professor Marcus said diplomatically, "the test has only just begun. Perhaps he's... strategizing."

But even he didn't sound convinced.