Not long after Freya ordered Azriel to be the first, the door opened, and he entered the room with Instructor Juliet by his side.
But they weren’t alone.
Another person, dressed in the white academy uniform, followed them in.
Since there were no first-year students yet, it was clear that this person was either a second or third year.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Azriel! How was your trip to CASC?”
Solomon greeted with a wide smile.
Azriel returned a slight smile.
“It was a comfortable ride. Unfortunately, I left EASC at the last minute, so I haven’t had the chance to do any sightseeing yet, Instructor Solomon.”
As Instructor Juliet closed the door behind them, Solomon burst into laughter.
He insisted that Azriel should definitely check out the Sacred Capital and playfully reminded him that he shouldn’t call him “Instructor” just yet, as Azriel wasn’t officially a first-year student.
The sad truth, however, was that nearly everyone present for the entrance exam was almost guaranteed acceptance unless there was a compelling reason otherwise.
The void creatures were nightmarish adversaries, and humanity couldn’t afford to be selective about those willing to fight against them.
Even if the students lacked talent, as long as they were willing to become heroes and fight for humanity, it was better than nothing in the academy’s eyes.
Despite the surge of courage that brought many to join the academy, more than half would likely back out by the end of the year—if not sooner, at the upcoming void dungeon challenge, which was a rite of passage for first-years.
The real purpose of the void dungeon was to test the students’ resolve, to see who had the mental fortitude to push forward and become a hero.
You couldn’t become a hero with a weak mentality.
For Azriel, however, passing the entrance exam was a foregone conclusion.
While others might face a slim chance of failure, his status as a prince ensured he would pass, no matter what.
The entrance exam was more of a formality to gauge the talent pool and determine who would rise as the apex among the first-years.
But in Freya’s eyes, that question was already answered.
Azriel was destined to be the apex of the first year.
He was simply perfect for the role she envisioned him playing in the future.
Instructor Juliet returned to her seat with the other instructors, while the older student walked toward the center of the room, standing before the assembled instructors and the headmistress.
Azriel followed suit, positioning himself beside the student.
“Azriel Crimson, to pass the exam, all you have to do is show us what you’ve got. Don’t worry about holding back—Cadet Chad is a third-year student who can handle himself since he’s also a Grade 3 Intermediate.”
Freya explained.
Azriel narrowed his eyes in response, analyzing the situation.
“In other words, just impress us!”
Solomon added excitedly, a grin spreading across his face.
‘A Grade 3 Intermediate and a third-year, huh? She knows I’m at least on Caleus’s level, if not higher…’
Azriel thought, weighing his options.
Being a Grade 3 Intermediate in the third year wasn’t particularly impressive.
By that stage, it was expected for students to be at least an Advanced grade.
Azriel’s gaze shifted to Cadet Chad, who stood rigidly, cold sweat beading on his forehead as he stared straight ahead, seemingly paralyzed under Freya’s piercing gaze.
‘He must be scraping the bottom of his year, but for any normal candidate, he would’ve been more than enough for this exam.’
But this year’s candidates were far from normal.
‘She must have deliberately chosen him, knowing I could handle him easily… Is she trying to make it difficult for me to conceal my true rank?’
Azriel smiled slightly at Freya, nodding as he moved to the side of the room, putting some distance between himself and Cadet Chad.
The poor guy was probably roped into this to earn some extra points.
Azriel couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him.
But he also knew exactly what Freya was thinking.
If there had been one person he was most wary of at the banquet, it was Freya.
Even now, he knew that underestimating her would be a grave mistake.
By this point, Freya had likely already decided that Azriel was destined to be the apex of the first-years, which was…
‘Perfect.’
The only reason things were going so smoothly for him was perhaps because Freya was too focused on achieving her own goals.
Otherwise, he was certain she would have seen through him at the banquet.
‘She’ll figure it all out by the end of today, I suppose…’
With that thought, Azriel summoned Void Eater, positioning the blade in front of him with both hands gripping the hilt firmly.
Cadet Chad stood in the center, holding a bow and arrow, his eyes not betraying any arrogance.
Instead, they were filled with wariness—likely due to the rumors surrounding Azriel and the fact that he was a prince of the Crimson Clan.
As they awaited the signal to begin, Azriel spoke, his voice calm but commanding.
“Don’t blink.”
*****
Watching Azriel prepare, Freya felt a thrill of satisfaction.
No one but her knew the truth behind what was about to unfold.
Cadet Chad was struggling—still only a Grade 3 Intermediate—and Freya had struck a deal with him.
She promised to help him grow stronger, a promise she genuinely intended to keep.
But there was one condition: he had to lose miserably when facing Azriel Crimson in the entrance exam.
That was all he had to do.
Freya knew that making Azriel the apex of the first years wouldn’t be easy.
She would need to convince the other instructors in the room, except for Solomon and Ranni, who were already on her side.
There was a limit to how much she could achieve on her own.
Even Azriel, for all his cunning, was limited in what he could do.
Freya understood that he was trying to raise his reputation as a prince, especially after the stunts he pulled at the banquet.
Many influential figures would question how someone like him could not become the apex.
It simply wouldn’t make sense.
But Freya couldn’t quite grasp his endgame.
What was his goal?
Why go to such lengths?
She didn’t care how Azriel had obtained information about the Neo Genesis attack.
All she wanted was for him to seize the spotlight.
At most, Freya predicted that Azriel would aim to place himself in the top 25, trying to avoid too much attention.
But with Chad as his opponent, Azriel would inevitably emerge as the apex.
Then she heard him speak.
“Don’t blink.”
Those words snapped her out of her thoughts. Azriel stood ready, his stance poised for attack, while Chad assumed a defensive position.
But something was wrong—Azriel’s expression wasn’t as blank as it had been at the banquet.
‘Something’s off…’
Freya narrowed her eyes, an uneasy feeling settling over her.
She didn’t like the look Azriel was giving.
It felt like something was missing, something she hadn’t accounted for.
‘What is he planning?’
“You may begin.”
Instructor Salvator announced.
The instant those words left his mouth, every instructor in the room sat up straight—even Ranni and Solomon.
“”…!””
A black mist suddenly erupted from Azriel’s body, coiling around him like a snake.
It seeped from his mouth, nostrils, and breath.
‘That stench…!’
Freya recognized it immediately.
If the smell of death on Azriel had been a faint flicker before, it was now a blazing inferno.
Her skin crawled with disgust, goosebumps rising as she watched.
Cadet Chad, too, was affected.
Goosebumps appeared on his arms as he gripped his bow tighter, hurriedly nocking an arrow.
The terror on his face was unmistakable—he had forgotten the condition of their deal.
And it didn’t end there.
Red lightning began to crackle, merging with the black mist.
The floor froze beneath them as the tips of Azriel’s hair turned white.
‘Dual affinities, just like his sister!?’
Fwoosh—!
Chad loosed his arrow, but the moment he blinked, Azriel was gone.
“Huh…?”
The sound of the arrow hitting the ice echoed through the room.
Chad turned to see it split perfectly in two.
“Beautiful…”
Ranni’s voice broke the silence, awe-stricken.
Cadet Chad couldn’t move.
The cold, metallic sensation of a blade resting against his neck kept him frozen in place.
It took a few seconds for him to regain his senses, and when he did, he saw a shattered path of ice before him.
He felt someone’s cold breath on his nape.
Black mist with red lightning coiled gently around the broken ice and Chad’s body, before transforming into dark roses with red lightning crackling through them.
Then, just as suddenly, they vanished into thin air.
“A-ah…”
Cadet Chad finally understood.
He had lost—miserably.