Chapter 11: Is This Really the Opening Ceremony?

“Is This Really the Opening Ceremony?”

“It’s the opening ceremony, right?”

“I told you, it is.”

The opening ceremony, held in what appeared to be a grand ballroom, left Sion perplexed.

Right, he had forgotten. This wasn’t the modern world but a medieval fantasy setting.

‘Still, who turns an opening ceremony into… this? It’s almost like a social gathering. Well, I guess it is kind of similar…’

Sion felt dizzy.

The idea of freshmen getting to know one another was reminiscent of a social event, sure, but this was far more extravagant than he’d anticipated.

As he struggled to process the situation, Geivolg made his entrance.

He was dressed in an elegant white ceremonial uniform, adorned with a gold brooch bearing an unfamiliar emblem—likely the crest of his homeland, the Rodenburg Kingdom.

“Good to see you, Sion, Patrick!”

“An honor to meet you, Your Highness.”

“Haha! If you’re impressed by this attire, don’t be. I just didn’t have anything else suitable for a formal occasion. Maybe I should’ve just worn my academy uniform, like Sion!”

“…It would’ve been nice to have someone else in uniform,” Sion replied with a sigh.

Standing out like a sore thumb in the academy uniform while everyone else was dressed in formal attire made him feel painfully self-conscious.

It felt like all eyes were on him.

“Don’t worry, Sion! Look over there—Serenne Camillea is in her uniform too!”

“…Serenne?”

“Yeah, over there,” Patrick said, pointing.

Sion followed his finger and saw Serenne Camillea sampling desserts.

Sure enough, she was wearing her academy uniform.

“That’s surprising. You’d think a count’s family like hers would have formal attire for occasions like this,” Patrick remarked.

“The Camillea family is a renowned knightly house, after all,” Geivolg added.

“Indeed! Their reputation is well-known even in the Rodenburg Kingdom!”

“A knightly house? That’s… unexpected,” Sion muttered.

Serenne Camillea was the top-ranked freshman in the Magic Department.

For her to come from a family of knights seemed oddly contradictory.

“If you’re curious, why not ask her yourself? Go on, Sion!”

“What? Wait—ah!”

Before Sion could protest, Geivolg clapped him firmly on the back, sending him stumbling forward.

His heart raced, fearing he might fall flat on his face.

Thankfully, he regained his balance just in time—only to find himself standing directly in front of Serenne.

“…”

“Uh, hi… Serenne? Um, good evening,” Sion stammered, silently cursing Geivolg.

The timing was almost too perfect, as if Geivolg had calculated it.

Serenne put down the dessert she was holding and fixed her gaze on Sion.

Then, without a word, she began to approach him, closing the distance between them.

“Uh… Serenne?”

“…”

“You’re… a bit too close. Wait—Serenne!”

Sion tried to step back, but Serenne moved faster.

Despite his shorter-than-average height, Serenne was even smaller, standing about half a head shorter than him.

Looking up at him, she reached out and grabbed the hem of his uniform, stopping him in his tracks.

Finally, she spoke.

“…Interesting.”

“Pardon?”

“Your eyes—they’re fascinating.”

“My… eyes?”

“Yes, those eyes. They’re enchanted with some kind of advanced magic, far beyond my understanding.”

“What does that even mean—”

Before he could finish, Serenne abruptly let go and crouched down to the floor.

She seemed to be poking at something.

Looking closer, Sion realized she was playing with his spirit companion.

“Is this the spirit you’re contracted with?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. It is.”

“Take good care of it.”

“…?”

“Do you want some dessert? It’s good.”

Serenne stood up, holding out a plate of dessert as if the previous conversation hadn’t happened.

Her words and actions were completely unpredictable.

‘Is this just her personality?’ Sion wondered.

Despite her peculiar demeanor, their conversation flowed oddly well.

The only issue was her tendency to switch topics without warning.

“I have a question,” Sion ventured.

“Go ahead. You can drop the formalities—we’re the same age.”

“Oh, uh, okay. So… why are you in uniform?”

Serenne’s sleepy, half-lidded eyes momentarily shifted.

In an instant, they were filled with something darker—anger, perhaps—but the change was so fleeting that Sion wasn’t sure if he had imagined it.

“…Just because.”

“Oh, uh, okay.”

“What about you?”

“Me? Well, I didn’t know it would be this kind of event. Honestly, I feel a bit out of place…”

“It’s fine. The uniform is perfectly appropriate. For a student, anyway.”

“…Right.”

“…”

Serenne exhaled through her nose as if pleased with herself for knowing something so significant.

Sion offered a hesitant smile.

Though awkward, their conversation was surprisingly smooth. However, their exchange was interrupted when all the chandeliers suddenly went dark.

The ballroom plunged into darkness.

As everyone glanced around in confusion, the lights returned, illuminating the center of the hall like a spotlight.

Standing there was an elderly man.

He looked like a wizard from a storybook, dressed in a gray robe with a wide-brimmed hat. His long white beard gave him the air of a sage or a veteran mage.

“Welcome, first-year students of the Byzantium Academy Magic Department,” he said. “I am Noias Beitan, your academic advisor this year. I look forward to guiding you.”

Polite applause filled the hall as Noias removed his hat and bowed gracefully.

The students clapped enthusiastically, captivated by the theatrical introduction.

The spotlight and dramatic entrance made it feel like a scene from a play.

But Noias wasn’t done yet.

Step by step, he walked forward—not down the stairs, but up into the air.

It was as if invisible stairs were supporting him as he ascended.

“Look at that!”

“He’s walking on air!”

“Is there some kind of hidden platform?”

“Idiot, it’s obviously magic!”

Murmurs of astonishment rippled through the students.

Noias smiled, clearly enjoying their reactions, and continued his speech.

“You have been admitted to the empire’s finest academy. Most of you will go on to become court magicians or hold high positions in mage towers. However, entering this academy is not the end—it is only the beginning!”

Thud.

He stepped firmly onto thin air, and an illusion appeared beneath him.

The illusion depicted students in academy uniforms casting magic.

The images quickly turned grim.

One student collapsed, coughing blood as mana overflowed and backfired.

Another was struck down by a beast before they could even cast a spell.

Yet another fell from the sky as their mana failed mid-flight.

“Countless magicians meet untimely ends. It takes immense time, money, and talent to nurture a single capable magician. Yet it is heartbreaking when such potential is lost in vain—even here at this academy.”

The dreadful illusions dissolved into the air, replaced by new images.

These showed students receiving diplomas, their numbers growing from a handful to a multitude.

“Rest assured, I will do my utmost to ensure you do not meet such tragic ends. Pursue knowledge fearlessly. Enjoy learning and mastering magic. We are here to support your growth with everything we have!”

As he finished speaking, the illusions transformed into small, colorful flames that danced in the air like fireworks.

The high ceiling allowed for a modest but mesmerizing display.

Students stared, entranced, as their eyes reflected the vivid colors of the flames.

‘What an incredible speech.’

Even without the magic, his words were powerful and memorable.

Promising to protect the students from harm made the dangers feel more real.

‘Wait, does that mean it’s actually that dangerous…?’

The earlier illusions replayed in Sion’s mind—the grim fates of students in academy uniforms.

Were those merely fabricated scenarios, or actual events reconstructed from history?

Sion decided not to dwell on it.

“You can find detailed information about the departments on the app linked to your student ID. Clubs will soon host recruitment events, so look forward to that. For now, enjoy the evening! Though there are only about twenty of you in this year’s class, cherish the bonds you’ll form here. Hoho!”

With a puff of pink smoke, Noias disappeared.

The entire performance had been a spectacle from start to finish.

‘Maybe Professor Noias was a showoff as a kid,’ Sion mused.

“Enjoy the evening, huh…”

He glanced around.

Serenne had resumed savoring her dessert.

Patrick and Geivolg had vanished, presumably to mingle elsewhere.

Clusters of students were already chatting in groups.

The thought of forcing himself into one of those circles made Sion’s head ache.

‘Ugh, I hate stuff like this. What should I do?’

As he hesitated, an unusual voice echoed in his mind.

[Sion.]

“?!”

[Don’t look around. It’s me, Noias. I’m speaking to you directly through your thoughts.]

The voice was unmistakably that of the professor who had just given the speech.

Sion couldn’t understand why Noias was addressing him specifically.

Noias quickly explained.

[I have something to tell you about your father.]

“…!”

Sion’s eyes widened in shock.

To Be Continued.