Seraphine Kyra-Chrono.

The name rang in Avin's mind like the echo of a bell. He muttered under his breath, "So that's her name, huh?"

"What?" Sylas looked down at him. "Isn't she your sister?"

Avin blinked, caught off guard. "Oh—yeah, I was just…" he stumbled over his words, reaching for one of his usual excuses, but none came. "…It was a joke."

Sylas gave him a strange look. "Ah… okay?" he said slowly, turning back toward the gate.

Avin pretended to focus on the list, but Sylas was already speaking again, his tone casual but edged with awe. "Seraphine, one of the geniuses of this generation. They say she's the fastest rising star in the entire Northern territories. A role model. A representative for all those who dream big." He paused, grinning faintly. "And she's beautiful."

Avin looked at him flatly. Sylas met his gaze, blinking innocently.

"You talk a lot more than you look like you do," Avin said, dryly.

Sylas laughed, tapping Avin on the chest. "Let's go."

They pushed their way out of the dispersing crowd. It was easier now — fewer elbows, fewer shouts. The chaos had thinned to a steady murmur. They made their way toward the next gate, the air heavy with the chatter of other examinees comparing their groups.

When Sylas finally found his name, he pointed it out. "Ah, I'm here." His tone was relaxed, satisfied. Avin leaned in to look but saw nothing of his own.

They walked to the final gate. There — at the bottom corner of the list — he saw it.

"Ah… here I am. Group 67," Avin said, running a finger under his name. "And who are the other four?"

Sylas looked at him, almost surprised. "You don't know them?"

Avin shook his head. "Am I supposed to?"

Sylas chuckled, low and amused. "I thought you of all people would know them." He leaned closer to the list, scanning it again. "Kinda weird how they all ended up in the same group… Random, they said." He scoffed.

Avin frowned but said nothing. He turned away, starting toward the gate that led out of the coliseum, Sylas following behind.

"So," Avin said after a while, "you're not gonna tell me who they are?"

Sylas smirked, the kind that made Avin suspicious. "You'll get to know them soon enough."

Avin sighed. "What's he plotting…" he muttered as they stepped into the dim hallway.

The corridor stretched long and narrow, lined with evenly spaced doors on both sides. Faint blue crystals embedded in the walls cast a soft light across the floor. Their footsteps echoed lightly, bouncing off the stone walls.

Finally, after what felt like minutes of walking, they emerged into the open.

Avin squinted against the sudden sunlight — and froze.

For the first time since entering this world, he saw the Academy's city in full.

It wasn't just a school. It was alive.

Stone-paved streets wove through a maze of elegant, rune-lit buildings, some tall and slender, others low and sprawling. The air shimmered faintly with mana, carrying the scent of hot food and metalwork. Shopkeepers called out prices from behind colorful stalls — the rhythmic clang of hammer on steel echoing from the distance. Students in uniform walked in groups, laughing and arguing, some carrying books that floated beside them with faint blue energy.

"Damn," Sylas said beside him, awe creeping into his voice. "I keep forgetting this is just a school."

"Yeah," Avin muttered, eyes wide. "Just a school.".... He thought to himself, "Yeah, a school with murderous superpowered children who want to conquer the world with their powers and think they are better than their older brother and try to temporarily kill him with poison and get him kicked out of the examination so he could go back home and be beheaded.."  Clearly his fraustration was towards a specific someone but he didn't want to acknowledge that.

To their left, a long street was lined with food stands. The smell hit first — roasted meat, spiced vegetables, and something sweet like caramelized fruit. A cook with runes glowing on his arms flipped skewers over an open flame that burned green, the crowd cheering when he tossed one up and caught it midair.

Further ahead, a group of younger students zipped by on hovering discs, laughing as they raced down the street. Others rode on beasts that looked like a cross between wolves and stags — slender, elegant, and glowing faintly around their antlers.

The roads were alive with chatter, movement, and a soft hum of magic that pulsed through everything — through the lamps that glowed without oil, the signs that floated and rearranged their letters, the gates that opened with a whisper when someone approached.

Everywhere Avin looked, there was something happening: a scholar demonstrating a fire spell to a small crowd; a merchant selling bottles of liquid light; children practicing small levitation tricks in the shade of a fountain.

Sylas grinned. "Makes you forget how brutal the exams were, huh?"

Avin didn't answer. His eyes were caught on the horizon — where a massive wall loomed.

Beyond the city streets stood the true Academy.

It was colossal — an entire complex enclosed by a towering wall carved from smooth black stone, veins of silver rune-light pulsing across it like lightning frozen in place. The walls themselves hummed faintly, carrying a low vibration through the ground.

Avin slowed as they approached. The gates alone stood three times taller than any building in the city, forged of layered metal that shimmered with mana circuits. Ancient symbols danced across their surface, shifting every few seconds as if alive.

"Big enough for you?" Sylas asked, his voice echoing slightly.

Avin exhaled, overwhelmed by the sight. "Yeah," he said quietly. "More than enough."

When they reached the front, two figures stood at the gate — both dressed in deep navy uniforms lined with silver thread. They held long spears inscribed with glowing sigils, their expressions calm but sharp.

The guards didn't speak. They just stared.

Their eyes locked on Avin and Sylas — measuring, calculating — as if deciding whether the two even belonged here.

And under their gaze, the massive gates behind them pulsed once, like a heartbeat.

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