At the gates of the Jared Academy I, the most important institution of legionaries in the kingdom, the various delegations began to arrive. In the grand reception hall stood Joseph Demat, one of the host cadets. Coming from one of the Seven Virtues, the most distinguished families of the Devotees, he was a young man of athletic build, blond hair, and eyes of a light blue as clear as a cloudless sky.

  With the list of invited novices in hand, his eyes searched for a particular name, and the bile of resentment rose in his throat. It was a poison he had distilled for years, drop by drop, since the day of his baptism. He remembered the coldness in his father's eyes when the Devotee, instead of proclaiming the expected blessing, sentenced the word that changed everything: "Legionary".

  In that instant, he ceased to be the beloved son and became a walking disappointment. He fought with desperate fury to prove them wrong; when he returned from the academy, swollen with pride over a new sword technique, his father didn't even look up from his sacred texts. Later, when he announced that he was among the top of his generation, with the possibility of being Major Brigadier that same year, the only response he got was: "That's good, at least you haven't further degraded the Demat name". And he, starving for any crumb of attention, had taken it as a victory.

  That is why, when the professors chose him as host, he saw it as his definitive opportunity. But even then, they told him about another: a prodigy from Haniel who was breaking historical records in strength. Curiosity turned into obsession.

  Upon investigating and discovering that this Silas was a half-blood, a son of scholars, his blood boiled. He felt as if fate were mocking him, as if the only thing he had left, his excellence as a legionary, was being snatched away by a nobody without a surname. And in that moment, he swore he would not allow it.

  As the delegations arrived, Haniel's had not yet appeared. Joseph observed the other young promises with disdain. He saw Zael Bolta pass by, a cadet who had pulverized all marks in the speed tests. In Joseph's eyes, his attitude was exasperating; Zael lived as if every day were his last, moving and speaking at such a frenetic speed that it was often difficult to understand him. He also distinguished Lucian Zhong, a cadet whose peculiar fighting style, of which little was known, was rumored to be a foreign martial art inherited from his ancestors.

  Finally, with a notable delay —product of an incident with a criminal nicknamed "Garmo the Dog"—, the delegation from Haniel arrived. Upon seeing the banner of the Jared Academy VII, Joseph stepped forward to receive them.

  —Welcome to the great Jared Academy I —he said with forced formality—. My name is Joseph Demat. Could you give me your names, cadets? —he asked, with the clear intention of identifying Silas.

  —Good afternoon, Joseph —responded an officer—. I am Captain Anselmo. He is Sergeant Diego, she is Cadet Jazmín, and he is Cadet Silas.

  Upon hearing the name "Silas", a subtle grimace of disgust twitched Joseph's lips.

  —I see that Cadet Jormun is missing —he commented, unable to hide his animosity.

  —Yes, we had some mishaps on the trip and we have already informed the academy —explained Anselmo—. Unfortunately, Jormun's family had an emergency and he had to leave. Due to time constraints, it was impossible to replace him.

  —I understand. Captain, the lodging for officers is located in that sector —indicated Joseph, pointing to a wing of the building—. Excuse me, cadet, what will be the dynamic for the friendly duels this year? —asked Anselmo.

  ?Damn, I wanted to explain the rules only to the cadets to confuse them a bit?, thought Joseph with frustration. ?But well, this doesn't change my plans much?.

  —Of course, Captain. The system is similar to previous years.

  While he spoke, he handed each one a heavy golden medal with the symbol of the Jared Academy I.

  —Each cadet starts with a medal, which is wagered in the duels. The duels can be either combat or in any of the physical tests. Additionally, the winners of the initial physical condition competitions will obtain an extra medal.

  —Wow, before they were just combat duels —commented Anselmo.

  —That is correct, Captain. It is one of the new modifications to place more emphasis on physical preparation, which is sometimes neglected —replied Joseph, and continued explaining the rules. He clarified that each cadet would be classified into a category (strength, resistance, or speed) and that, upon being challenged, one can accept the duel in the dexterity area if they are of the same category or also combat if he decides so, but if they are of different categories, only combat is an option. However, the crucial part was the conditions for rejecting a duel.

  —A cadet can reject a challenge up to two times. On the third refusal, they are disqualified and their medal passes to the last opponent who challenged them. But there are exceptions: if you have more medals than your challenger, you can reject them as many times as you want. And conversely, if you challenge someone with fewer medals than you, they are obligated to accept.

  —Then, the champions of the initial physical tests will have a considerable advantage over the others —intervened Jazmín with her classic carefree tone.

  —Exactly.

  —Unless they don't compete at one hundred percent in those tests to hide their true potential —she added, with a half-smile.

  Joseph looked at her, barely containing his irritation. ?This damn sly bitch already understood how to exploit the system?, he thought. It wasn't cheating, but a risky strategy: competing to the max gave you an initial advantage but revealed your limits. In contrast, holding back turned you into a wolf in sheep's clothing.

  After the chat, Silas addressed his captain.

  —Captain, with your permission, I would like to go to the city to buy something quick.

  —Agreed, but return before 20:00. Go with Sergeant Diego —conceded Anselmo, while heading to his accommodation thinking: ?In the end, Gavriel is the safest place in the kingdom. I need to rest in a real bed... Damn trip, they should pay me better for these messes?.

  —Jazmín, do you want to accompany us? —asked Silas.

  —No, thanks. I need to review some techniques in my mind, and it will be easier if you aren't distracting me —she responded.

  The "technique" Jazmín referred to was simple: go look for her brother.

  After saying goodbye to Silas and Diego, she began to walk the corridors of the Jared Academy I. The design was a carbon copy of Haniel's, as if they had all come out of the same mold. ?If I were a detestable delinquent, where would I be right now?? she thought sarcastically. After walking around several times, she found him in the boarding student sector.

  Marco was trying to sell something to a cadet who rejected him with a gesture of disdain.

  —Well, your loss! —snapped Marco as the other walked away—. ?No one wanted to buy. I thought I would sell more here, they say only children of rich people come... sure, they are rich because they hate spending their money?.

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  A voice interrupted him from behind. Believing it was a regretful customer, Marco turned around with a salesman's smile.

  —See? I knew you would come back for one of th... —he said, showing a red pill shaped like a marble. His smile froze upon seeing who it was—. Ah, Jaz. What are you doing here? What a joy to see you! Hey, sorry, you wouldn't happen to have some money?

  The question was so dismissive, so immediate after years without seeing each other, that Jazmín wasn't surprised.

  —No, Marco. I don't have money for you —she responded, her voice dry as ice—. If you scam a student here, you might not get away with it like always.

  —Everywhere there are idiots who want a miracle in a pill —he replied, shrugging his shoulders, as if he had no fault in anything—. I'm just taking their money before someone else does.

  —Right, because miracles only happen to other idiots, isn't that so? —said Jazmín with sharp sarcasm, staring at him fixedly—. It was obvious that with your channeling level they would send you here. But etch this in your mind: people like you don't deserve the talents given to them. And tomorrow, I will prove it to everyone.

  Marco limited himself to making a face of absolute disinterest.

  With that gesture of indifference as a response, Jazmín turned around and headed to her room, boiling inside. ?I hope he at least sleeps poorly with my threat?, she thought, although a part of her questioned why she had warned him of her next move. ?I suppose even for this there are rules. I just declared war?.

  Back in her room, she sat on the bed to meditate, letting time fade away until Silas's voice brought her back to reality.

  —Jazmín —he interrupted her softly—, the guards just notified me and Sergeant Diego. There will be a celebration dinner in half an hour.

  —Is it mandatory to attend? —she asked, without opening her eyes.

  —They didn't specify anything to me, but I think it would look bad if no novice from Haniel shows up —responded Silas.

  —I prefer not to go —said Jazmín, finally looking at him—. There are certain people I just don't want to see today. Can you tell them that the tonic you gave me caused sudden drowsiness?

  —Sure, I'll tell Captain that. I don't think they'll be upset, considering everything that has happened —agreed Silas.

  Thirty minutes later, Silas, Sergeant Diego, and Captain Anselmo found themselves at the entrance of the majestic hall where the celebration would take place.

  Conversations in the hall hushed when the academy director, Carlo Crociato, addressed the podium. He projected a natural authority, with his solid legionary build, his light brown hair, and his unique golden eyes with crimson flashes.

  But Silas's gaze deviated almost immediately toward the enigmatic figure following a step behind him. It was a gray-haired man, of thin appearance, but who moved with a liquid grace, as if the air itself parted for his path. He wore a slight and constant smile, and upon focusing on him, Silas felt a chill that was not fear, but overwhelming respect, a mix of awe and reverence. ?Who is that legionary? He possesses a strange aura, as if he had absolute control of everything around him. Maybe if I channel a pinch of Cognis without drawing attention... I could see him in slow motion?.

  Silas activated a fraction of his power, accelerating his thought. The world around him slowed down, becoming a slow-motion movie. However, to his total astonishment, the gray-haired legionary seemed to move at the same speed as before. For an instant, their gazes crossed, and the man gave him an enigmatic smile. Surprised and fearing he had been discovered, Silas cut the Cognis channeling abruptly.

  —Captain Anselmo, who is that legionary? —he asked in a low voice.

  —First, more respect, boy. Look at his badge, you should know he is a General —corrected Anselmo—. His name is Grímnir. He comes representing the academy of Mikailier.

  ?Mikailier... where did I hear that name? Ah, right! The city of molders where Don Alfonse studied?, thought Silas, and then asked: —Isn't that the city of the best molders?

  —Exactly. The area is full of mana veins, that's why there isn't a conventional Jared academy. The one there only accepts legionaries who have already completed their six years of training and seek to specialize in subjugation. That man is the Guardian General of Mikailier.

  —And is he strong?

  Anselmo let out a laugh.

  —Strong is an understatement. If all the high-ranking legionaries in this room attacked him at once, with luck we would achieve a draw, and I assure you that several of us would meet a fatal end.

  —So he is incredibly strong —murmured Silas, impressed.

  —He has to be. Mikailier is plagued by high-level mana beasts. And mind you, I told you that here we could tie with him. If this battle took place on the border of Mikailier... —Anselmo smiled—. I think we couldn't even touch him. In his territory, General Grímnir is invincible. It is said that in his prime, superior-rank mana beasts fled in terror just by seeing him.

  —But what difference does it make if he is in Mikailier or not? —asked Silas, remembering the feeling of inferiority provoked by the silver wolf that Andros defeated.

  —General Grímnir is a dual legionary. He can also channel Cognis and, somehow, manipulates the ambient mana in such a strange way that he becomes more of a natural disaster than a simple warrior.

  ?Dual legionary... a scholar... that's why his aura was so strange. I'd better not channel Cognis near him. But if he is that strong, maybe in the future I can be too. I hope I can exchange a few words with him?, thought Silas, filled with a new ambition.

  During the cocktail, Silas tried to relax. After a short while, two cadets distributing appetizers approached him.

  —Hi, you are Silas, right? —asked one of them.

  —Yes, why?

  —It's nothing, it's just that we heard the rumor about a novice who broke all strength records. Honestly, you don't look that imposing —said the other, with a mocking smile.

  —Well, nice to meet you anyway. I am Jorge and he is my friend Luis —introduced the first one—. Excuse me, but, could you do us the favor of demonstrating that strength of yours?

  —I don't think it would be right to do it before the competition —responded Silas, cautious.

  —Oh, don't worry, it's not that important. Tomorrow's competition has nothing to do with lifting weights —said Luis, with a conspiratorial tone—. We could show you the equipment they will use. It's in the gym. Of course, if you are interested...

  ?An extra advantage wouldn't be bad?, thought Silas. —Alright, I accept.

  The boys guided him to the gym, where a young legionary on guard let them pass without asking questions. Inside a room similar to where Silas had competed in Haniel, they began to speak.

  —These are the machines for the strength test —said Luis, pointing to a sort of armor connected by a thick cable to a console—. This armor modifies its weight according to the energy infused into it. Do you want to try it?

  —Okay —accepted Silas.

  While equipping it, he thought: ?It doesn't feel very different from normal armor...?. He couldn't finish the sentence.

  Suddenly, he felt as if his body weighed a hundred kilos more.

  —Oof, I see it is very difficult. Thanks, you can stop it now —he said, feigning effort.

  But the machine didn't stop. A voice resonated from the shadows.

  —Hello, Silas.

  It was Joseph, emerging with a condescending smile.

  —What a joy to have the super rookie here.

  Silas remained silent, concentrated.

  —Alright, guys, proceed with the plan —ordered Joseph.

  The pressure of the weight increased drastically.

  —I know what you are thinking, Silas, and it won't do you any good —continued Joseph, savoring the moment—. When a few bones break or you faint, whichever happens first, we will leave. We will tell the guards that we saw you acting suspiciously, and everything will indicate that you came to spy and suffered an accident for not knowing how to handle the equipment. You will be out of the competition. And don't even try to blame us, I already took care of covering our tracks. So, please, just faint quickly.

  Joseph's voice was calm, but as Silas didn't scream or collapse, his tone began to change.

  —Jorge, Luis! What's happening? Why doesn't he break? Turn up the power! —he exclaimed, uneasy.

  —It's already at maximum! With this pressure and without channeling ether, his bones should have turned to dust by now! —responded Luis, confused.

  Joseph looked at Silas fixedly. The novice's face was concentrated, but showed no pain.

  ?This bastard... it seems he is using ether. But that's impossible! These idiots must have given him the poison to block his channeling?, thought Joseph, furious. —Jorge, did you give him the drink?

  —Yes, I did! I saw him drink it myself! —assured Jorge.

  It was then that Silas smiled and began to speak, his voice firm despite the pressure.

  —From the beginning, I knew this was a trap. But I was curious to know who had orchestrated it.

  Upon finishing the sentence, Joseph charged at him, screaming "damn son of a bitch", throwing a punch charged with ether straight at his head. Silas dodged the blow and counterattacked with a headbutt. Joseph also dodged it, but that brief instant was enough for Silas to lean his body on him. With the added weight of the armor, which must have been around 400 kilos now, both crashed to the floor. Silas only had to move one arm, channeling an immense amount of ether, and let himself fall on his captor.

  Choked under the weight, Joseph screamed with a dry voice: —TURN OFF THE MACHINE!

  The boys turned it off, but the instant the pressure ceased, Silas moved like lightning. Using the "explosive steps" of the Invisible Sword technique, he appeared next to Luis and Jorge and knocked them out with precise blows to pressure points.

  Joseph stood up, catching his breath, only to find a new scene: his two accomplices lay unconscious and Silas was slowly taking off the armor, as if Joseph's presence didn't matter to him in the slightest.

  —Look, Joseph —said Silas with a terrifying calm—. Right now I could break every bone in your body. But I have the impression that you have some other plan to twist the situation and play the victim. So I will leave quietly. But tomorrow, in the duels, we will see each other again.

  His face was serene, but his eyes hid an immense fury, a fury attenuated only by the thought that he had been saved thanks to Jormun.