Night had descended upon Aetherial Institute.
Moonlight flowed across ancient towers.
Silver mist drifted between floating bridges.
The island no longer resembled an academy.
It resembled something older.
Something hidden.
Something that had existed long before the Empire itself.
Countless magical lanterns illuminated the pathways.
Students waited anxiously throughout plazas and courtyards.
None of them knew—
Their futures had already been decided.
Far above the academy.
Within the highest administrative tower.
The true discussions were taking place.
The Hall of Evaluation.
One of the most important chambers within Aetherial Institute.
Every year.
Every applicant.
Every examination.
Every result.
Passed through this hall.
The chamber itself was enormous.
Circular in shape.
Ancient white stone formed the walls.
Thousands of glowing runes covered the ceiling.
Floating crystal screens filled the air.
Each screen displayed information.
Names.
Scores.
Combat recordings.
Mana evaluations.
Aura measurements.
Psychological assessments.
Recommendation letters.
Everything.
Dozens of instructors occupied the chamber.
Senior instructors.
Department heads.
Researchers.
Combat evaluators.
Administrative directors.
Each represented a different part of the academy.
And each possessed authority.
Real authority.
Tonight.
They would finalize the incoming generation.
At the center of the room sat a massive circular table.
Several senior instructors reviewed reports.
Others argued.
Others negotiated.
Some simply observed.
One elderly instructor rubbed his forehead.
"I still don't understand."
Across from him.
Another instructor looked up.
"Which one?"
The old man pointed toward a floating crystal screen.
A familiar name appeared.
Aedon Flinth
The room became slightly quieter.
Not silent.
But noticeably quieter.
Because everyone knew that name already.
The old instructor sighed.
"An explorer."
Someone nodded.
"Yes."
"A commoner."
Another nod.
"Yes."
The old instructor pointed again.
"Then explain this."
The combat recording activated.
Immediately.
The room witnessed Kel's spear throw.
The compressed energy.
The impossible trajectory.
The explosion.
Silence followed.
The old instructor spread his hands.
"Explain."
Nobody immediately answered.
Because nobody could.
Eventually.
A middle-aged combat instructor spoke.
"The technique itself isn't impossible."
Several nodded.
Correct.
The principle wasn't impossible.
The execution was.
The instructor continued.
"The compression."
"The control."
"The precision."
His expression became serious.
"Those are not beginner-level skills."
Another instructor added:
"Neither is the Orbit Sword Art."
Immediately.
Several heads nodded.
A second recording appeared.
The moment two aura swords materialized.
The room became quiet again.
Because unlike Divine Spoon Art—
The Sovereign's Orbit Sword Arts possessed established standards.
Everyone knew how difficult it was.
Everyone.
One instructor sighed.
"I spent six months trying to condense a single orbit blade."
Another nodded.
"I managed one."
A third looked irritated.
"I never managed any."
The room became silent.
Because these weren't students speaking.
These were instructors.
Experienced professionals.
And yet—
A sixteen-year-old applicant casually produced two.
Meanwhile—
At the far end of the table.
Senior Instructor Varian sat quietly.
The spoon rested beside him.
Naturally.
At this point nobody questioned it anymore.
One instructor finally looked toward him.
"You evaluated him personally."
Varian nodded.
"What do you think?"
Silence followed.
The old instructor considered the question carefully.
Then answered.
"He is holding back."
The room became quiet.
Very quiet.
Several instructors narrowed their eyes.
One asked:
"How much?"
Varian looked toward the recordings.
Then toward the recommendation letter.
Then toward the combat evaluation.
Then toward the spear throw.
Finally—
He answered.
"I don't know."
And that answer worried everyone more than anything else.
Because Varian Holt rarely admitted uncertainty.
Meanwhile.
Another section of the hall discussed a different problem.
A much stranger problem.
A crystal screen displayed another name.
Seraphina
The room looked exhausted.
Several instructors genuinely appeared tired.
Because evaluating Seraphina had become a nightmare.
An elderly researcher adjusted his glasses.
Then sighed.
"Let's review."
The crystal activated.
One recording after another appeared.
Sword forms.
Magic formations.
Aura circulation methods.
Movement techniques.
Combat stances.
Each one copied.
Perfectly.
The researcher looked toward the others.
"Thoughts?"
Silence.
Then—
A female instructor spoke.
"Monster."
Several nodded.
A combat instructor raised a finger.
"Talent monster."
Another corrected him.
"Potential monster."
A third added.
"Administrative nightmare."
The room laughed.
Because it was true.
Nobody knew where to place Seraphina.
Her knowledge was almost nonexistent.
Her education was nonexistent.
Yet her talent bordered on absurdity.
Eventually.
One department head sighed.
"Special observation class."
Immediate agreement followed.
That solved the problem.
Temporarily.
Elsewhere within the hall.
More discussions continued.
Noble heirs.
Military talents.
Scholarship candidates.
Magic prodigies.
Sword geniuses.
The academy reviewed all of them.
Some were rejected.
Some accepted.
Some marked for observation.
Every decision mattered.
Every name mattered.
Because one day—
These students might become generals.
Kings.
Researchers.
Saints.
Or monsters.
No one knew.
Hours passed.
One by one.
The final lists began forming.
Crystal screens reorganized.
Names shifted positions.
Acceptance categories appeared.
Special admissions.
Scholarship candidates.
Research prospects.
Combat recommendations.
The incoming generation slowly took shape.
Then—
A particular discussion resumed.
Aedon Flinth.
Again.
One administrative director frowned.
"The recommendation."
Several instructors looked up.
The director continued.
"How much weight should we give it?"
A reasonable question.
After all.
Recommendations varied greatly.
Some came from local officials.
Others from nobles.
Some from military commanders.
This one—
Came from Nameless.
The room became thoughtful.
One instructor finally asked:
"Have we verified it?"
The administrative director nodded.
"Three times."
Authentic.
Without question.
The room grew quiet.
Then a researcher spoke.
"Honestly."
Everyone looked toward him.
The researcher shrugged.
"The recommendation isn't the strange part."
Several people blinked.
Then realized he was right.
The recommendation wasn't the strange part anymore.
Aedon himself was.
The recommendation merely confirmed someone important already recognized his talent.
Meanwhile—
Varian suddenly spoke.
The room immediately listened.
Because he had remained silent for most of the evening.
The old instructor leaned forward slightly.
Then said:
"Place him in Special Observation."
Silence.
Several instructors looked surprised.
One asked:
"That high?"
Varian nodded.
The spoon tapped softly against the table.
"That high."
No further explanation followed.
Yet nobody objected.
Because everyone trusted his judgment.
Inside his mind.
Far away.
Seiren suddenly sneezed.
Then blinked.
"...Kel."
At the academy.
Kel sat quietly beneath a tree.
Waiting for results.
"What?"
"I think people are discussing you."
Kel looked toward the moonlit academy.
That possibility seemed likely.
Very likely.
The Guardian laughed softly.
"You attract trouble wherever you go."
"That is inaccurate."
"Then explain why academy instructors are probably arguing over your existence."
Kel remained silent.
The Guardian immediately won the argument.
Again.
Back within the Hall of Evaluation.
The final list completed itself.
The crystal screens stabilized.
The decisions had been made.
The discussions ended.
The arguments settled.
The generation finalized.
One administrative director stood.
Then looked around the chamber.
"Any final objections?"
Silence.
None came.
The director nodded.
Then pressed his hand against the central crystal.
The entire hall illuminated.
Thousands of names activated simultaneously.
The acceptance list.
The special observation list.
The scholarship list.
Everything.
Ready for release.
Ready to change lives.
Ready to create futures.
The director spoke calmly.
"Release the results."
Ancient runes awakened.
The crystal screens dissolved into streams of light.
The information flowed throughout the academy.
Toward the Common Boards.
Toward the waiting applicants.
Toward destiny itself.
And among the countless names now being revealed—
Two remained particularly memorable within the minds of many instructors.
A commoner explorer named Aedon Flinth.
And a silver-haired mermaid named Seraphina.
Neither understood it yet.
But tonight—
Their names had officially entered the records of Aetherial Institute.
And from this moment onward.
The academy would be watching them very carefully.