Even before the eagle could land, the Beast Master unsummoned it mid-air—sending everyone seated on its back into a free fall from nearly a hundred meters.

But none of them panicked. One of them calmly raised his hand, controlling the wind to slow their descent.

Leo's eyes narrowed.

Wait… that level of control isn't possible with just a skill.

Then a thought crossed his mind.

If that's possible… then maybe…

He glanced around and spotted Alric swaying unsteadily, looking like he might collapse at any moment.

Let's try this.

Leo focused on his skill [Vine Estranglement]. A thin vine—barely as thick as a finger—slithered out of the ground near Alric's feet. With a flick of his will, it wrapped around Alric's legs and tugged sharply.

Thud!

Alric crashed to the ground.

Why didn't I think of this before? Leo mused. I could save so much mana when I don't need raw power.

While Leo was lost in thought, Alric stood up with a scowl, his face red with humiliation. First, he'd been mocked by Lily, and now he'd fallen flat like a fool in front of everyone. When the girl beside him tried to help him up, he slapped her hand away.

"Don't touch me with those filthy hands of yours," he snapped.

On the stage, Baron James was exchanging pleasantries with the visiting academy members.

"What?! A real Baron? In the outskirts?" Hasker exclaimed, his face twisting in exaggerated surprise.

Brant, standing beside him, sighed and stepped forward.

"Forgive my companion's rudeness, Baron James," he said smoothly. "We've travelled across many cities in the outskirts, and not once have we met an actual Baron ruling a city. Most weren't even fit to be knights—with their bellies as round as their pride. You're quite the surprise, I must say. And I mean that as a compliment. We're always grateful for those who sacrifice their personal growth to protect their people."

He offered a slight bow.

Though Professor Brant was a 4-star professional, his noble rank remained Baron. To rise higher, he needed a substantial domain under his control—something he'd willingly given up to teach at the academy instead.

Hasker, realising his blunder, quickly bowed his head as well. A Baron with actual land always held a higher standing than one without. And in the Empire, authority—no matter how fragile—was meant to be respected. This was the rule imposed by the Emperor to try to instill, in whatever small way, the way a civilised society should live: no matter if you are of higher strength, you need to show respect to a person of higher authority. Though it was questionable how many followed that.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from the crowd.

"This is wrong! My father is the true lord of this city—not you! You're just an acting lord taking advantage of his absence! I'll make sure you're punished for this!"

All heads turned.

It was Zolton Milti—his face twisted with anger. He'd already been seething ever since seeing James standing as acting lord, and now that James was being praised, his rage boiled over.

Professor Brant's expression darkened. His gaze locked onto Zolton.

"And who might you be?" he asked coolly.

"I am Zolton Milti, son of the true lord of this city! And these men are taking advantage of my father's absence!" Zolton declared, puffing up his chest as if expecting approval.

Brant arched an eyebrow. "And when did your father disappear?"

"Eh? A-around two or three days ago... why?" Zolton faltered under Brant's cold stare.

"Two or three days?" Brant repeated, voice sharp. "Shouldn't your city have received notice of our arrival well before that?"

"That's correct, Professor Brant," Vintage interjected smoothly.

Brant scoffed. "If he can't even be present for such an important occasion—one that could bring tremendous opportunity to this city—I wonder if he's fit to be a lord at all."

His gaze pierced Zolton like a blade.

"Do you even understand the privilege before you? One word from us, and this city could rise from Tier 1 to Tier 3—or even Tier 5—if we deem it worthy. So tell me, should I wait for your so-called lord?"

Zolton's confidence shattered. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He had only recently reached the rank of Great Knight (Low 2-star), and now a 4-star powerhouse was glaring him down.

Just now, Vintage irritation spiked to the highest. In this crucial moment, this Milti family still wanted to bring them down. He seized the opportunity in the moment of silence.

"Professor Brant," he said respectfully, "please allow me to explain."

Brant gave a brief nod, gesturing for him to continue.

"You see," Vintage began, "the current city lord—just as you said about others—barely has the strength to back his title. His rank is that of a Knight Commander, and even that has been declining. He's been exploiting the people, sitting on his wealth while the city decays."

Brant's brow rose slightly.

"So, as the Vice Lord—and the descendant of the previous city lord—I wanted to see this city prosper." Vintage gave a small, almost wistful chuckle. "It was my late father's wish."

"In his absence, I sought out Baron James. He recently earned his title and has the strength and integrity to lead. I believed he could steer the city back on course. So I humbly ask you to overlook this matter."

Brant regarded him for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"A descendant, hmm... I see. Since you vouch for him, I'll trust your judgment." His eyes shifted back to Zolton, cold and sharp. "As for you— I see no other Baron here but Baron James."

Technically, he wasn't wrong. Zerek had never been a true Baron.

James and Vintage exhaled quietly, relief washing over them.

Zolton, on the other hand, clenched his fists, seething with humiliation. He couldn't even refute Brant's words.

Damn it, Father… you never told me Vintage knew your strength!

Now, he couldn't even dream of taking revenge on James—an officially recognized Baron.

Of course, Vintage knew it—being a knight commander himself, he could sense the trues sense of Zerek

Brant straightened, brushing the matter aside.

"Anyway, we've wasted enough time. Let's begin the academy selection trials."

He stepped forward and raised his hand. A metal ring gleamed on his finger as several strange devices materialized in the air around him.

"These will test your talents—not just in beast taming, but in other disciplines as well. If we find potential worth nurturing, you'll join us for the trials." His gaze swept across the crowd. "But be warned—those trials carry real danger. Prepare yourselves. These tests will decide whether you enter an academy… or return to Mother Earth."

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