The main assembly was way too grand for someone like me, and far too large for a group of first-year students.
That was my first thought when entering the hall.
My second thought was that the Academy probably knew that and was smug about it.
The hall seemed designed less for practicality than for scale. It opened in a wide circular sweep, tiered benches curving around the chamber in measured arcs that drew every eye toward the centre, where a single podium stood beneath a shaft of descending light. Above, the domed ceiling rose in pale geometric patterns, grand enough to make the space feel almost temple-like, while tall white columns ringed the hall with quiet authority. Between them hung long banners of blue, gold, and crimson, their colours catching in the sunlight pouring through the high-arched windows at the far end. The polished floor gleamed like still water, reflecting the light upward so that the whole chamber seemed to shine with ceremonial intent. It was the kind of room built to remind everyone inside it that Aetherion did not merely teach power. It displayed it.
Every first-year had been summoned to this room.
Every single one.
Commoners, nobles, scholarship students, sponsored students, and even the heirs.
The air held a strange pressure that only existed when large groups of people knew something important was about to happen but didn't yet know whether they should be excited, afraid, or outraged.
Ryn, naturally, had chosen to be outraged.
He sat to my left, his arms crossed, glaring at the stage as though it had personally offended him.
Taron sat to my right, one leg stretched slightly forward, his posture relaxed, but his expression was bright with anticipation.
Which placed me between them.
An intentional accident, I suspected.
"You know," Ryn muttered, leaning back in his seat, "when the Academy says attendance is mandatory, it really does feel less like a school and more like the militia has summoned us."
Taron looked around the hall appreciatively. "Militias don't usually have good lighting like this."
Ryn glanced at him. "Do nobles criticise militia halls too?"
"Of course."
"... You're joking."
"Mostly."
"That just means a slight no."
Taron smiled. "Hey, look at that! You're learning my language!"
Ryn looked immediately disgusted by that.
I ignored their exchange and looked around the hall, taking in what I could see.
The first years had arranged themselves in the usual structure that Ryn and I have become accustomed to seeing. Nobles all clustered nearer the front, their confidence occupying more space than actually choosing to. Commoners sat farther back or in uneven groups, with a few trying their best not to appear nervous or scared. The Ten Heirs, of course, drew attention without doing anything at all.
My gaze naturally found Cyril Valenhardt.
He sat several rows ahead, near the centre-right, with Lucielle Ardentis on one side and Rein Drakovar on the other. Lucielle looked composed, her golden hair catching the light as if the hall had been built to flatter her existence. Rein sat like a mountain that had been politely asked to sit still in a school.
Cyril was looking in our direction.
No. Not quite.
'Is he looking at me?'
For a moment, it certainly felt that way.
His gaze was calm, cold, and severe enough that my body remembered the white-gold sun he had brought down on me in the maze. There was no open hostility on his face. No sneer. No fire in his eyes. Just that aristocratic stillness, sharpened into something that looked uncomfortably close to a death stare.
I frowned slightly.
'What is he looking at?'
I replayed the last few days in my head. I had not directly interacted with him since the maze. I had not challenged him, insulted him, or stolen from his plate.
Unlike I do with Ryn.
I couldn't narrow anything down.
Cyril's eyes remained fixed on us.
Then Taron leaned slightly closer to me and whispered, "You always stare this intensely at other people, or is this a special treat just for him?"
"I wasn't staring intensely."
"You were definitely staring intensely."
Ryn glanced past me. "Who are we staring at, intensely?"
"No one is getting stared at!" I exclaimed
My elevated voice caught the people around me off guard and drew some unwanted stares.
'Ugh, how embarrassing.'
Taron's smile didn't help either.
Before Ryn could continue with his head bobbing in his attempts to find who I was looking at, sudden movement on the stage pulled his, as well as everyone's, attention forward.
A professor stepped into view.
The hall became quiet quickly.
Recognition had moved through the room like a ripple forming when stones are thrown into a river.
Ryn leaned forward.
"Hey, isn't that—"
"She's the woman who recruited us back in the Basin," I said quietly. "Seris."
That name—this person, clearly meant something different in this room.
Back in the Basin, she had been the woman who arrived bearing Academy authority and opened a path none of us had expected to exist. She looked younger than someone in that position had any right to be, but there was nothing soft about the impression she gave. Her beauty was clean and striking, sharpened rather than gentled by a warrior's firmness. Dark auburn hair fell to her shoulders in a sleek, precise cut that framed a composed face and cool, lilac-toned eyes, and the Academy professor's uniform sat on her with crisp authority, tailored closely enough to suggest discipline rather than decoration. Everything about her had felt controlled: elegant at a glance, intimidating on a second look, as if refinement and force had been forged together so neatly that separating them was impossible. From the mud, noise, and poverty of the Basin, she had seemed less like a visitor and more like a prosecutor in Academy colours.
Here, her look was a far cry from what it was back at the Basin.
It felt... more dangerous.
Taron turned toward us, surprise breaking across his face.
"Huh? You guys know Lady Seris?"
Ryn made a face. "She's the reason we're here in the first place. How the hell do you know her?"
Taron stared at Ryn as if he had just asked him if water was wet.
"How wouldn't I know her?!"
Ryn blinked, taken aback by Taron's sudden enthusiastic tone.
Taron gestured lightly toward the stage. "She's the youngest person ever to reach the Logos core stage in the history of— well, the history that we know of! There isn't a person here who doesn't know her."
I raised one finger.
"Except for us."
Taron paused.
Then sighed.
"Yeah," he admitted, although he was much less spirited by now. "Except for you guys."
Ryn leaned slightly forward, his eyes narrowed toward Seris with a renewed interest.
"Logos?" Ryn asked.
Taron nodded. "Yeah. I'm seriously surprised you guys don't know about her. She's made a name for herself despite being from House Valkenhardt, one of the branch families of House Valenhardt."
Ryn's expression soured instantly.
"No surprise she's from a noble house." Then his eyes narrowed further. "Wait, if she's from a branch house of House Valenhardt, then does that mean—"
"She's Cyril's older cousin," Taron said.
I looked toward Seris again.
Then briefly toward Cyril.
Interesting.
A branch family.
The concept shouldn't have surprised me. Powerful families splitting into secondary or even tertiary lines was not impossible to understand. But in this world, where bloodlines, affinities, spell traditions, and social authority were entangled so tightly they almost seemed like the same thing, the idea carried a different weight altogether.
'Branch families,' I thought. 'Not relatives, but political extensions of the main family.'
The Codex responded before I could finish organising the thought.
[AETHERIC NOBILITY STRUCTURE QUERY DETECTED]
'I wouldn't say I had a query—'
[BRANCH FAMILY: HOUSE VALKENHARDT, A SECONDARY FAMILIAL LINEAGE DERIVED FROM PRIMARY HOUSE VALENHARDT]
[COMMON FUNCTIONS INCLUDE: BLOODLINE DISTRIBUTION, POLITICAL EXPANSION, SUCCESSION MANAGEMENT, RISK REDUCTION, AND AFFINITY PRESERVATION]
A thin stream of information unfolded in my mind.
[GREATER HOUSES MAY FORM BRANCH FAMILIES WHEN PRIMARY LINEAGE EXPANDS BEYOND DIRECT CONTROL CAPACITY]
[BRANCH FAMILIES MAY BE EMPOWERED, RESTRICTED, OR SUPPRESSED DEPENDING ON THREAT VALUE TO MAIN BLOODLINE]
[ADVANCEMENT FROM BRANCH STATUS TO INDEPENDENT HOUSE STATUS IS RARE BUT POSSIBLE]
[RECENT EXAMPLE: HOUSE BLAKE, CASSIAN BLAKE IDENTIFIED AS CENTRAL INDIVIDUAL IN RECENT ELEVATION OF HOUSE BLAKE STATUS]
My eyes narrowed slightly.
'There's that name again. Cassian Blake.'
'Wait, Codex, how do branch families play a part in risk reduction, and what risks are you talking about?'
Before the Codex could continue, Seris lifted one hand.
Her motion was simple, but the effect was not.
Traces of Aether flooded the hall.
Not with force, but with clarity. The murmuring students fell silent almost instantly as her presence settled over the space. When Seris spoke, her voice carried to every seat without strain, amplified by Aether integrated so finely through the hall that the sound seemed to come directly from in front of each listener.
"First years of Aetherion Academy," she began, "good afternoon."
Her tone was formal, calm, and controlled.
"I am Professor Seris Valkenhardt. I will be overseeing this year's first-year midterm field examination. This will be the first examination that I personally will be involved in."
Several students shifted in their seats.
Well, there it was.
The official announcement.
It was no longer Professor Orin's warning.
Nor Taron's rumour.
Not even the cups Ryn arranged across a lunch table.
It was now official news.
Ryn's elbow repeatedly pressed lightly against mine.
I didn't look at him.
Seris continued.
"The examination you are about to undertake is known formally as the Leyre Island Examination. It will take place on the Island of Leyre, a controlled Academy field site used for survival training, beast assessment, tactical evaluation, and applied Aetheric judgement."
"Leyre Island exam on the Island of Leyre? Their creativity sure is astonishing." Ryn said sardonically.
A projection unfolded behind Professor Seris.
The island appeared in a faint blue light above the stage.
Even as a model, it looked hostile.
Mist clung low over the island, drifting across a broad stretch of dark forest and low, heavy mountain lines rather than anything sharply mountainous. The terrain seemed flatter than I expected, its whole mass spread wide and uneven beneath the haze, with only a few higher rises breaking its shape. The coastline curved in rough, shadowed edges around pale strips of shore, while one long crowded expanse near the water suggested either ruins, settlement remnants, or something too densely packed to read clearly from a distance. Several inland zones were marked in darker washes, deliberately obscured, as if the map itself had chosen not to speak plainly. Here and there, broken fragments of old structures appeared across the island, scattered through the gloom like the remains of something long since buried and only half returned.
"The examination itself will last twenty-four hours," Professor Seris said. "Before it begins, you will be transported to Leyre by ship. Upon arrival, you will have one day to acclimate, prepare equipment, receive final instructions, and ask any questions. Once the examination begins, each student will enter the island alone from a separate insertion point that will be allocated to you when boarding the ship."
The hall stirred.
Alone.
That word did more to the room than almost anything else she had said so far.
Even Taron's expression sharpened.
Ryn muttered, "Of course, every man for themselves. The Academy special."
Professor Seris allowed the reaction to settle for a moment before continuing.
"You will be ranked individually. Temporary alliances are permitted after the exam begins, but bear in mind that points gained in shared battles will be divided according to your individual contribution. Cooperation may improve your survival, but it may also reduce your individual rewards. That is a choice you will be expected to make and live with."
That was clever.
And quite cruel.
Teamwork would certainly help students' survival, but would also dilute their scores. Solitude would improve a person's scoring potential, but that would come with increased risk. It forced students to reveal what they valued under extreme pressure.
"Exactly the kind of exam Aetherion would design for us," I muttered quietly.