Chapter 245
Chapter 245: The Big Shot Stomps the Starter Zone
The enormous city gates stood wide open, and 2 rows of imposing Knights flanked either side, solemnly checking the documents of all those passing through.
"Please proceed."
A Knight carefully examined a merchant's documents, returned them with a respectful bow, then waved the next Carriage forward into the city.
A Trading Caravan bearing the Clavena Family Crest, hauling a long column of cargo, kicked up a cloud of dust as it wound through the sparse road and entered the Royal Capital.
The moment the Knights caught sight of the Clavena Family emblem on the cargo boxes, every one of them went rigid.
That Family insignia—they knew it all too well.
The Knights exchanged glances, nudging each other, their steel armor clinking softly with each jostle.
In the end, one Knight was pushed forward by his companions. He glanced back at them with a pained expression, but having already stepped to the front, he had no choice but to steel himself and conduct the routine inspection on the Clavena Family's Trading Caravan.
The Trading Caravan produced all the required documents.
Once the documents were confirmed to be in order, it was time for the cargo inspection.
The Knight lifted the curtains of each cart one by one, and seeing nothing but fully compliant goods, gradually settled his nerves.
He moved through each Carriage with practiced, brisk efficiency, growing more relaxed with every pass.
Until he stopped before the final Carriage.
Before he could even begin his inspection, the curtain of the Carriage lifted on its own.
The Knight blinked, and slowly raised his gaze.
Seated inside was a man in a black Coat.
His eyes traveled upward and met Viktor's.
In that instant, the Knight felt as though his heart had stopped beating.
Blood surged to his head, and his limbs trembled uncontrollably.
Locked under Viktor's cold stare, he felt like a lamb laid out for slaughter.
The Knight's body gave a start, and he hastily bowed in greeting:
"Count Vi—Viktor."
"Welcome… back."
In all of the Royal Capital, who didn't know Viktor?
Council Member of the Mage Council. Chief Professor of the Royal Magic Academy. Private magic instructor to the Imperial Princess. Head of the Clavena Family.
And even—the former Grand Knight Commander Gwen Delin's fiancé.
Viktor gave an indifferent nod, and the Carriage curtain fell closed on its own.
The Knights at the front, seeing no signal of anything unusual, lifted the roadblock and waved the Carriage through.
The Knight who had conducted the inspection stood frozen in place, eyes vacant and glassy.
The one who had been lying in Count Viktor's arms just now…
That was… Knight Commander Gwen, wasn't it?
……
A Carriage rolled steadily toward the Delin Manor, the soft turning of its wheels echoing along the quiet street.
A Servant noticed the Carriage bearing the Clavena Family Crest approaching and hurried back inside to report.
A moment later, Kavra walked gracefully out of the Manor and pushed open the gate to receive them.
She was taken aback, however, to find Viktor standing beside the Carriage.
Before she could say much of anything, Viktor lightly tapped a finger.
A green light welled from his fingertip and seeped into the ground beneath the Carriage.
From the earth, several vines slowly grew upward, rose, and gently lifted the unconscious Gwen—who lay motionless inside the Carriage—out into the open.
Kavra stared at Gwen lying perfectly still atop the vines, startled, and rushed forward to gather her from them and into her arms.
At that moment, Viktor's voice came from behind:
"She's been unconscious since yesterday. Take care of her."
With those simple words, Viktor climbed back into the Carriage, which slowly pulled away from the Delin Manor.
Kavra looked Gwen over carefully.
Her expression was calm, her complexion unchanged—there was almost no outward sign of any illness.
And yet her eyes remained firmly shut, and she would not wake.
Kavra furrowed her brow, pressing a hand gently to Gwen's forehead, murmuring to herself in quiet worry:
"How did things end up like this."
***
Viktor sat quietly in the gently swaying Carriage, leaning against the window, gazing at the scenery drifting past along the street.
He listened in silence to the sound of wheels rolling over the cobblestone road.
A Crow perched across from him, plucking a cherry from a dish with its beak and swallowing it whole.
It savored the cherry at its leisure, then turned its gaze on the quiet Viktor and spoke:
"Are you ready?"
Viktor showed little reaction and simply answered: "Perhaps."
From the very beginning, Viktor had been working steadily to reshape Gwen's impression of him.
To maintain a measured distance between them, and to ensure that Gwen came to rely on him more and more.
By now, he had nearly accomplished it.
Gwen's every move had come within Viktor's field of view.
Yet he had miscalculated on 1 point.
Gwen had already been marked long ago.
【Devotee of the Goddess】
The Goddess they worshipped had no particular interest in directing her faithful.
But the faithful themselves—they yearned at every moment for their Goddess to descend upon the world again.
And so they had to ensure that Gwen was not contaminated.
"I had no intention of dealing with these things before—but now."
Viktor's eyes flickered with an icy light, cold as obsidian:
"They should be wiped out."
Weija stretched her wings, raised one to her beak, and let out a yawn.
"You'd better think this through carefully. The gods may no longer concern themselves with the mortal world, but…"
"If you deal with those fanatical Devotees, you'll still draw that Goddess's attention."
Viktor turned to look at Weija:
"That's what I have you for."
"Me? Don't joke around."
Weija flapped her wings and settled on Viktor's shoulder.
"I'm just an ordinary Crow."
Viktor's expression remained unchanged:
"That's more than enough."
This was a game.
And as a Player, Viktor would not turn down any challenge.
The Carriage rolled over the dust-stirred road, leaving 2 wheel-tracks behind it as it slowly drove deeper into the city.
***
The Royal Magic Academy was especially lively today.
In sharp contrast to the quiet emptiness of the holiday, countless students and parents had gathered here, and all manner of noble Carriages were parked outside the Academy, escorting their precious children inside.
Today was the first day of the new term—and the day of the new student assessments.
The crowd surged and pressed before every Mage Tower, waiting their turn to enter the examination.
Professors stood at the tops of each Mage Tower, calling out to examinees one by one.
The interior of the Mage Towers was filled with heavy, haphazardly stacked books, with only a few wide wooden tables set before the Professors.
The tabletops were laid with white paper, and beside each lay a pristine quill—though the tip was already stained through with ink.
A Professor held up the roster, pushed up his glasses, and began calling out names:
"Bruce Kade."
"Pisure Maulson."
…
Each student whose name was called wore an expression of confidence as they strode through the Teleportation Formation with their head held high.
The invigilating Professor continued down the roster, casually calling the next name:
"Auréliane…"
"Hmm?"
The Professor pushed up his glasses, bringing the roster closer to his face. His eyes flicked upward—and he froze.
"Auréliane So—Sorel!?"
The name, the moment it left his lips, left even him struggling to believe what he was reading. The roster trembled in his hand as his eyes went wide.
The other students who heard the name simply sat frozen in their seats, expressions utterly blank.
Beneath the azure sky that hung above the Mage Tower, countless students were scattered like fallen pearls across the grounds, anxiously waiting to hear their own names called.
When those 3 syllables carried across the wide plaza to reach them, their eyes went just as wide.
Who?
Auréliane Sorel!?
Somewhere within the crowd—
From the rippling surge of people, a girl with long silver hair flowing like a waterfall stepped slowly forward.
She wore a simple yet elegant ensemble that, under the sunlight, framed her striking beauty to perfection.
Auréliane gently reached one hand back behind her head and brushed aside her flowing hair.
An elegance and nobility that radiated from within immediately spread outward from her very presence.
She stepped through the Teleportation Formation with unhurried composure, and walked into the Mage Tower under the gaze of the crowd.
The moment she stepped inside and met the Professor's eyes, she offered a small smile.
Carrying that uniquely distinguished grace of the Imperial family, she bowed to the Professor with perfect propriety.
The other students stared at the graceful, extraordinary Auréliane from their seats—mouths open, eyes glued to this girl who seemed unlike anyone else.
They watched in stunned silence as Auréliane took her seat, their hearts shaken to the core.
Her Highness the Princess… was actually taking the same exam as them!?
This—!!
After all, Auréliane was the Empire's Princess.
Gaining entry to the Royal Magic Academy to study was, for someone of her position, essentially just a matter of the Imperial family saying the word.
The Principal himself would have gone out of his way to personally invite the Princess to study at the Academy.
But shock was shock—and being a Princess didn't necessarily mean she was some exceptional genius.
Auréliane's combat achievements had been publicized quite loudly, it was true.
But written examinations were written examinations, entirely different from live combat.
This gave many of the students, even amid their astonishment, reason enough to bolster their own courage.
They told themselves: they still had a chance to surpass the Princess.
The Professor, after a brief moment of shock, quietly cleared his throat and continued calling out the remaining examinees.
Every student who walked into the room, the instant they spotted the Princess, would give a visible jolt.
But then, like all the rest, they could only comfort themselves with the same reasoning and pump themselves back up.
Soon, once every examinee was seated, the Professor inverted an ancient hourglass and solemnly announced:
"The examination begins. Time allowed: 2 hours."
"Each student's examination questions are on the white paper on your desk. Please use the quill that has been provided to write your answers—do not bend or damage the quill."
"Also—the ink on them will not run out."
The Professor raised his head and swept a glance over Auréliane, then continued:
"You will have 10 minutes to review the paper."
With that, he leaned against the lectern. The Magic Formation behind him glowed faintly, accompanying his gaze as it moved across the room and rested on each student in turn.
No movement, however slight, would escape his notice.
The students buried themselves in their papers, brows tightly knitted.
Some sighed quietly; some propped a hand against their forehead, groping for any trace of an answer.
The creak of shifting metal chairs sounded from across the room, punctuated by the occasional pained exhale or gritted-teeth wince.
Seeing this, the Professor raised his voice in reminder:
"Quiet while reviewing—no talking!"
Soon the 10 minutes elapsed, leaving behind only a thin trickle of sand settling at the bottom of the hourglass.
At first, many students remained seated in a daze, still as statues, quill hovering over blank paper with no idea where to begin.
Auréliane, however, was different. She crossed her hands over her chest and gave her fingers a light flick.
The quill before her seemed to come alive, answering responses according to her will on its own.
Its speed far outpaced ordinary handwriting—it moved almost perfectly in sync with Auréliane's thoughts.
After only a brief moment, she raised her arm with an elegant lift:
"I'm finished."
"Hm?"
"Huh?"
"What the—?"