The massive auditorium of Zenith Academy was packed to the brim. Thousands of cadets—first years, seniors, mentors, and even several nobles—sat in neatly arranged rows, eagerly awaiting the official commencement of the academic year.
Banners floated above, enchanted to display footage of the Academy, and the grand chandelier above flickered with a soft blue luminance. Excitement crackled in the air like static before a thunderstorm.
But as soon as a tall figure gracefully stepped onto the stage, the chaotic chatter melted into silence.
It was Alicia von Crestvale.
The dazzling third-year, already a mid-Master ranker, walked confidently across the podium, her long white hair cascading behind her like a comet's tail. Her regal bearing made even the proudest nobles among the cadets unconsciously sit straighter.
The girls admired her. The boys... worshipped her. And even the proud elves, vampires, and dwarves had to admit—however begrudgingly—that she commanded attention.
