Chapter 48: The Primordials

The auditorium had emptied.

Only minutes ago, thousands of candidates had filled the hall. Now they were gone, scattered across the examination grounds by the academy’s teleportation array.

The teachers returned to the elevated section where they had been seated before, settling into the same positions they had occupied during the orientation. Without the candidates below them, the hall felt considerably quieter.

Nobody seemed particularly interested in speaking about the ceremony anymore. Their attention had already shifted to the examination.

Seid, a Knight Department teaching assistant with brown hair and green eyes, leaned forward and glanced toward the displays that had yet to appear.

"Who do you think will take first spot?"

Beside him, Feyer chewed on a small piece of wood, the thin strip shifting from one side of his mouth to the other as he spoke. His black hair and eyes gave him a permanently unreadable expression.

"It’s obviously the Hero. What kind of question is that?"

Seid shook his head. "I’m not so sure. What about the Vespera bastard?"

Feyer’s chewing slowed.

"Caelus? The one who fought the Hero?"

"That’s the one."

Feyer shifted the piece of wood to the other side of his mouth. "He only managed that because the Hero wasn’t using his Affinity. Take that restriction away and the result would have been different."

He glanced toward the empty examination floor.

"The Hero is still the favorite."

Seid didn’t press the point. "Then there’s Toren. One of the Vespera elders’ sons. He has spent his entire life preparing for this."

"He’s strong."

Feyer tapped the wood lightly against his teeth.

"Still not enough to make me put him above the Hero."

"What about Eve?" another teacher asked. "The commoner."

Feyer looked toward him.

"Eve?"

"I’ve heard the rumors. Dual core. Mage and Martial Artist. Chantless incantation. C+ already."

A few heads turned.

Feyer’s piece of wood stopped between his teeth.

"A commoner?"

"That’s what they’re saying."

Feyer gave a quiet snort.

"That’s not a talented student. That’s a mythical creature someone decided to turn into gossip."

"You think it’s false?"

"Until I see it, yes."

The wood shifted back between his teeth.

"People exaggerate everything."

Seid was about to answer when Azrael cleared his throat.

The conversation stopped.

Azrael remained standing near the edge of the platform, his expression unreadable.

"Display."

Light spread across the floor beneath them, glyphs igniting in rapid succession as the academy’s system activated. Holographic screens rose through the air, dozens becoming hundreds until the entire upper section was surrounded by them.

Each screen showed a different candidate somewhere within the examination grounds.

Forests, cliffs, ruins, lakes, and open fields appeared across the displays as the system organized the participants according to their apparent competence.

The most capable candidates were placed toward the front of the arrangement, their displays larger and clearer than the others.

The Hero’s display stood above the rest.

Several teachers immediately focused on him.

Caelus’s display appeared farther down the arrangement. He wasn’t among the most prominent candidates, but his position was still high enough to draw attention.

The room gradually fell silent as everyone began watching.

The auditorium doors opened as a woman entered.

Brown hair framed her mature features, and violet eyes surveyed the room without a hint of hesitation.

She carried a small blond-haired child who looked no older than eight.

His blue eyes were bright beneath a head of blond hair, while the oversized robes hanging from his small frame nearly swallowed him whole.

Every teacher rose from their seat.

"We greet the Headmaster."

The child slipped from the woman’s arms and landed on the stone floor. He adjusted the robes around himself before walking forward, their excessive length dragging behind him.

Nobody found the sight amusing.

They knew better.

"Raise your heads, everyone."

The voice was unmistakably childish.

Headmaster Dover continued toward the holographic displays, his small hands disappearing into his oversized sleeves as he studied the examination footage.

"I was hoping to give the students a few motivational speeches before they died."

He sounded genuinely disappointed.

"What a shame."

A few teachers lowered their eyes from the increasingly difficult task of maintaining straight faces.

Headmaster Dover turned toward Azrael, whose expression had become completely stone-cold.

"Did you read the speech I gave you?"

Silence settled over the upper section.

Azrael did not answer.

The Headmaster stared at him for a few seconds before sighing.

"I should’ve assigned Selene instead of you."

"I’ll not disappoint next time."

Dover’s expression remained perfectly flat.

"You said that two years ago."

Azrael’s eyes narrowed.

"And you didn’t read the speech last year either."

Azrael’s silence was answer enough.

The Headmaster sighed again.

Ben finally spoke, unable to hold his irritation in.

"Father, can you please go back to normal? You’re embarrassing."

Headmaster Dover turned toward him.

"Is that how you speak to your father?"

Ben’s expression did not change.

"It doesn’t work when you look like that."

Silence followed.

Nobody dared laugh.

The Headmaster turned back toward the displays.

The childish amusement faded from his expression.

"Do you know why I’m here?"

Nobody answered.

His smile returned, stretching from ear to ear.

"It’s time for a purge!"

He clapped his hands together as though announcing the beginning of a festival.

"The entrance examination is the easiest time for Contractors to infiltrate the academy. Thousands of unfamiliar students enter at once, and some of them may already be carrying one."

He lifted a hand.

"They may know what they’re carrying. They may not. It makes no difference once the corruption takes hold."

His smile turned thin. He shaped his fingers like a gun and pointed toward one of the holographic displays.

"There is no cure."

A student was moving cautiously through a forest, glancing between the trees as though expecting something to attack him.

Dover’s finger shifted slightly.

"Bam."

The student’s head exploded.

His body collapsed against the forest floor.

His hand moved to another screen.

"Bam."

Another student fell.

Then another.

Purple veins spread beneath their skin as the corruption revealed itself, followed by black blood that stained their clothes as their bodies collapsed.

One screen after another went dark.

Nobody tried to stop him.

Nobody could.

Dover continued until only a fraction of the displays remained.

The veteran teachers barely reacted.

The newer teachers stiffened in their seats. Others looked away whenever another display went dark. Even several recommendation students struggled to hide their discomfort.

Yet nobody spoke.

The rules surrounding Contractors were not theoretical to the people who had been here long enough.

Whatever sympathy anyone might have felt for the victims had no place in the decision.

They were already gone.

Azrael watched without moving.

The speed of the purge made one thing clear. If Dover truly chose to, he could kill everyone on the island.

There would be nowhere to run.

The examination grounds were already within his reach, and the displays were allowing him to observe targets scattered across the island as though distance were irrelevant.

Yet the Headmaster was also the Emperor’s right hand and the leader of one of the empire’s most prestigious academies. A position like that demanded more than overwhelming strength. It required trust.

Headmaster Dover had that trust.

Azrael’s eyes narrowed.

His Affinity was Force.

It wasn’t limited to the simple manipulation of physical strength. Dover could influence forces operating at levels ordinary mages couldn’t even perceive, down to interactions between matter itself.

Within a sufficiently developed domain, the environment ceased to be something separate from the mage’s power.

A mage’s worldview began within the mind, shaped by understanding and intent. With enough mastery, that internal domain could be engraved onto reality itself.

Headmaster Dover had reached that level and shaped an entire island with a fraction of his power.

And he wasn’t the only one who had reached such heights.

Primordials (SS-rank).

The beings who stood at the summit of the world.

The Primordial of sunlight, Emperor Kalerion Draconis.

The Primordial of void and darkness, Duke Aldric Vespera.

The Primordial of dimensions, Duke Astera Sylvaris.

The Primordial of force, Headmaster Dover.

The Primordial of nature, the Queen of the Elven Kingdom.

The Primordial of divinity, the Pope of the Primordial Church.

Six beings stood at the highest level of power the world had produced.

And his father was one of them.

Azrael’s hand slowly tightened.

He knew the gap between them better than anyone.

If he wanted even a chance of standing against his father, reaching the Headmaster’s level wasn’t optional.

It was the minimum.

Eventually, Dover stopped.

The remaining displays stabilized.

Several of the newer teachers looked over the survivors, checking the screens almost unconsciously.

Then someone noticed it.

Caelus Vespera’s display was still there. Untouched.

He had not been purged.

A few teachers exchanged uncertain glances.

Nobody asked the question aloud.

Why?

Dover raised his hand, unaware of the question in their minds.

The stone beneath the upper section moved.

A deep grinding sound rolled through the auditorium as the platform rearranged itself. Sections of stone separated and slid into new positions, rising higher as the structure transformed.

A separate elevated section formed above the others.

From its center, stone folded and locked into the shape of a seat.

He began walking toward the newly formed seat.

Halfway there, his body began to change.

His small frame elongated beneath the oversized robes. Bone and muscle shifted with a series of muted cracks, his shoulders broadening as his height increased.

Blond hair faded into grey.

His childish features lengthened, aging rapidly until the face of an elderly man emerged.

The robes settled naturally over his new frame.

His blue eyes remained unchanged.

A pair of square glasses appeared across his face.

By the time he reached the seat, the child was gone.

Dover sat down.

The woman who had carried him inside remained behind his seat, her violet eyes fixed on the displays.

Her attention had settled on one particular screen.

Caelus’s.

Dover followed her gaze.

Caelus’s display remained untouched among the survivors.

Then his gaze shifted to Eve’s display.

A faint smile appeared on the Headmaster’s face.

He leaned back in his seat.

Then, quietly enough that only she could hear, he spoke.

"Let’s see how good your disciples are."