Chapter 329: A Royal Court in a Ruin

The bench near the center of the ruined stone courtyard groaned under the weight of three heavy iron pots, filled with boiled vegetables and salted pork.

Around the edges of the old, forgotten fort, sitting high on a grassy hill overlooking a huge, mist-covered forest, the forty-two remaining students of Class Veritas were scattered in small, quiet groups.

Some sharpened their weapons.

Others leaned against crumbling, moss-covered archways. Below their hill, a group of local villagers, farmers, old women, and crying children, were huddled inside the lower building, guarded by a squad of six students led by Dame Flint and Lucia Jane.

"Ugh, I’m tired of this salted meat scraps! I don’t want to eat it anymore! Can’t we get something else?" Finn grumbled, leaning back against a wall as he tossed a spoon into his empty wooden bowl.

Beside him, his twin sister Cora didn’t even look up from her short blades. "Shut up, bastard. You’re complaining too much for someone who already ate three bowls. Besides, I have to remind you, we’re in a test. This isn’t the real world. Be glad for what you get. Or if you keep complaining, leave some for the others."

"Hey now, come on, don’t be so hard on me. I know it’s not the real world," Finn hissed, his wolf ears twitching back in annoyance. "But I’m a beastkin like you! And you know how much beastkin eat! It’s not my fault I need to eat—"

"Tsk! Just shut up already. All I see is a greedy bastard," Cora retorted flatly, not missing a beat.

A few feet away, seated on an overturned stone pillar, Arthur stared down into his own bowl. His jet-black hair fell slightly over his forehead, shadowing his golden eyes. He held his wooden spoon, but he hadn’t taken a single bite.

When the simulation had first dropped Class Veritas onto the edge of this hill two hours ago, the sheer size of the land had almost caught them off guard. It wasn’t just a simple fight area. They had spawned in the middle of a huge, forgotten fort, an old watchtower built from moss-covered stone, wrapped around the high ridge of a jagged cliff.

Down in the lower valley, a small farming settlement sat completely open at the mouth of the forest. The simulation had given them a clear, harsh goal: secure the civilians, pull them up into the inner fort, and hold the single mountain pass leading up the hill.

Arthur had moved without hesitation.

Within thirty minutes, he had organized Class Veritas into three separate groups. He sent Dame Flint and Lucia Jane down to evacuate the village, using Sam and Iris to set up a second barrier along the lower stone steps, while he, Amelia, and Nyra scouted the upper ridge line.

Because the simulation didn’t give them a glowing map marker for the rift, Arthur had to rely on the natural shape of the land. The thick pine valley below worked like a natural funnel, the exact spot where the air pressure was heaviest and most unstable.

That was where the tear would break open.

The narrow point was obvious, but defending a three-level fortress with forty-two people meant no room for mistakes. Every gate needed a guard, every support mage needed a rest turn, and every soldier needed to know when to fall back.

A soft, cool breeze drifted across the courtyard, carrying the smell of rain from the dark clouds gathering over the treetops below.

"...Arthur," a quiet, soft voice called out.

Amelia stepped up to his side, her midnight-blue hair swaying gently against the collar of her white coat. She held a fresh wooden cup filled with clear, lukewarm water, and sat down beside him on the wide pillar, offering it to him. "Here, drink this."

Arthur blinked, pulled his gaze away from the bowl, and took the cup. "Thanks, Amelia."

He took a slow sip, letting the cool water wash down his throat.

Amelia watched him quietly for a moment. Her silver-violet eyes fixed on his untouched meal with a gentle, half-amused pout. "You need to fix that habit of yours, Arthur. Staring at your food and overthinking every little thing isn’t going to fill your stomach. Eat. You know you can trust the people around you, so stop worrying."

Arthur let out a low, breathless chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck as his face warmed a little. "Right. Sorry. I was just... going over the lower gate setup in my head."

"We went over the lower gate three times, Arthur," Amelia said gently, leaning in a little closer. "Lucia’s group has the lower barriers locked down. Sam and Iris have their mana reserves full. The traps along the western slope are set, and we have eyes on the whole tree line. The plan is solid."

"I know," Arthur said softly, taking a slow sip of the cold water. "It’s just... until the Gate actually cracks open the sky, it feels like waiting for a storm you can’t see. We don’t know if the wave will split at the tree line or hit the lower building first."

"Which is why we have scouts," Amelia reminded him, reaching out to rest her hand over his on the pillar. Her fingers were cool against his warm skin, and her thumb lightly brushed the back of his hand. "And why we have you at the main gate. You’ve given everyone a position. Now you have to trust them to hold it."

Arthur looked at their joined hands, and the tightness in his shoulders slowly eased. He looked up at her, catching the soft, steady warmth in her eyes, and a quiet, real smile finally touched his lips.

"Since when did you get this smart?" he teased quietly, nudging her shoulder with his own.

"Hmph! I’ve always been smart. You just never noticed," Amelia shot back smoothly, a tiny, proud smirk on her face. "Now eat, will you?"

Arthur laughed, a low, relaxed sound that made a few nearby students look over with relieved faces, glad to see their leader finally taking a breath.

_

A few paces behind the pillar, crouched near the base of a tree whose roots clawed through the floor, Nyra Silverfang sat quietly. Her silver-furred wolf ears flicked toward the wind, catching the distant hum of the forest below, but her amber eyes were fixed on the two of them on the stone pillar.

She was chewing on a strip of dried salted beef, her sharp teeth tearing through the meat with slow, steady bites.

In the beastkin tribes of the northern plains, things were simpler. They didn’t have thick books explaining noble court manners, family deals, or the complicated social rules human nobles built around love and marriage.

To Nyra, life was measured in instinct, strength, and the survival of the pack.

She had watched Arthur for months.

At first, her instincts had simply reacted to his huge, overwhelming power, the bright, golden hum of his core that marked him as an undeniable leader. But as the weeks passed, as they bled together during the Gate attack and trained together, she had seen something else.

She had seen a boy who carried too much weight, a boy who was fiercely, foolishly honest.

Nyra knew about Amelia. She wasn’t blind, and her sense of smell was far too sharp to miss the quiet way Arthur’s heartbeat changed whenever Amelia came close. She knew Amelia had been there first.

She knew they shared years of history, childhood memories, and a bond that had been forged long before Nyra ever set foot inside Aegis Academy.

To a human noble, that would mean jealousy. It would mean rivalry, scheming, or bitter resentment. To Nyra... it was just the natural order of things.

Amelia was the first mate.

She was strong, her magic was incredible, and her care for Arthur was real. Nyra didn’t feel anger toward Amelia. She didn’t want to take Arthur away, and she didn’t expect him to throw Amelia aside for her. In a beastkin pack, strength and care weren’t limited to one strict promise.

Nyra simply wanted to stay close.

She wanted to be near the warmth of his golden light because it made the cold, dangerous world feel safe. She wanted to make sure he didn’t forget to eat his food. She wanted to stand beside him and tear through whatever tried to hurt him.

If he only chose her, Nyra thought quietly, swallowing the last of her dried meat and wiping her chin with the back of her sleeve. That was fine. She was still here. Her strength was still his.

She shifted her stance and quietly stepped out from the shadow of the tree. Her soft, leather-soled boots made no sound against the ground as she walked over to the pillar, stopping right behind Arthur and Amelia.

Without saying a word, Nyra reached into her belt pouch, pulled out a thick, clean strip of dried meat, and dropped it straight into Arthur’s wooden bowl. Arthur blinked, staring down at the sudden meat landing in his soup. He turned around, looking up at the silver-haired wolf girl.

"Nyra?" Arthur asked, flustered. "What’s this?"

"You need protein," Nyra said flatly, her amber eyes wide and unblinking. "Eat it."

Amelia let out a quiet, melodic laugh, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked at Nyra. "She’s right, Arthur. Even Nyra knows your diet is terrible."

Arthur looked between Amelia’s gentle teasing grin and Nyra’s deadpan gaze. A helpless, genuine smile broke across his face, the tension in his shoulders finally loosening.

"Alright, alright," Arthur chuckled, picking up his spoon. "I’ll eat."

Over by the outer wall, Sam sat beside Iris, holding a cold water bottle. He watched the three of them with wide, nervous eyes.

"Tch. Look at them," Sam whispered, his left shoulder giving a tiny twitch. "Arthur, that bastard... he looks so calm. Even with two of the strongest girls in the first year sitting right next to him... he doesn’t even sweat. I hate those damn lucky bastards."

Iris sighed and wiped a speck of dust from her half-elf ears as her staff rested across her knees. "That’s because he’s the Goddess’s Chosen One, Sam. Of course he’d be surrounded by strong and beautiful people."

"I know, I know. And that’s why I don’t like handsome bastards," Sam muttered under his breath, taking a quick gulp of water. "Ah... I wish I could be as lucky as him."

Before Iris could answer, the air over the grassy hill pressed downward. It wasn’t a sudden blizzard or a dust storm. It was a silent, heavy pulse of twisted mana that made the air thick and wrong. The laughter vanished.

Nyra’s wolf ears snapped upright, then flattened against her head as a low growl vibrated in her throat. Her amber eyes locked onto the thick forest line below the hill. Amelia stood up in one smooth motion, her staff planting into the floor as a pale blue light rippled from it, instantly washing over the students of Class Veritas.

Arthur was already on his feet. His broadsword cleared its sheath with a crisp, ringing snap of steel. The golden light flared along the blade, lighting up his face and turning his golden eyes into twin burning stars.

The quiet, awkward boy sitting on the pillar was gone, replaced in a fraction of a second by the disciplined leader of Class Veritas.

"Positions!" Arthur roared, his voice carrying cleanly across the whole stone courtyard.

From the buildings and archways, thirty-nine students moved with sharp precision. Shields locked along the western stone gap. Mages took their places on the raised steps. Finn and Cora dropped into low, wild stances at the front gate.

"Sam, Iris! Second line!" Arthur commanded as he stepped up to the very edge of the cliff, Nyra moving to his left like a silent shadow, Amelia standing two paces behind his right shoulder. "Hold your mana until the front line makes contact!"

High above the dense forest, a jagged, fifty-meter tear in space ripped open, pulsing with deep violet light.

Down in the dark line of trees below, the first screams echoed up the cliff face. Massive, venom-dripping Moss-Claw Behemoths and razor-fanged Thorn-Scale Raptors charged out of the mist, their heavy feet crushing roots as they rushed up the grassy slope toward the fort.

Arthur raised his broadsword, the golden light casting a long, unyielding shadow across the floor behind him.

"Class Veritas!" Arthur’s voice cut through the rising roar of the swarm. "Hold the line!"

_

Meanwhile, in a separate simulation area...

The wooden chair was painted gold, but one of its back legs was noticeably shorter than the other three. Every time Crown Princess Lyssaria shifted her weight even a little, the thin velvet cushion creaked against the dry stone floor.

She didn’t complain.

She sat perfectly straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap over the fabric of her robes. To her right, three male villagers, local elders, were sweating through their linen tunics despite the howling, dust-filled winds rattling the stone shutters.

"P-Princess Lyssaria," the tallest villager stammered, his hands shaking badly as he held up a palm-leaf fan, desperately fanning cool air toward her while another elder stood beside him holding a clay jug of water. "Is... is the air comfortable enough? We can fan faster if the heat is too much, but—"

"I am fine, thank you," Lyssaria said softly. Her voice was smooth and gentle, and she gave the old men a faint, pleasant smile.

The villagers went pale instantly.

Their throats clicked as they swallowed hard. They took three slow, hurried steps backward, bowing so low their foreheads almost touched the sandstone floor, before turning around and rushing back to the corner of the ruin where other local townspeople were huddled together, whispering like nervous mice in a desert trap.

Across the cramped, crumbling hall, Riven leaned against a half-buried pillar with his arms crossed over his chest, his steel-red eyes fixed on Lyssaria. He watched in silent disbelief as the local townspeople practically tripped over their own robes just to slide another silk cushion near her boots.

Around the edge of the ruins, the rest of Class Fortis was staring too.

They stood frozen with their weapons half-polished, their jaws hanging open as they took in the ridiculous scene.

None of them dared step within ten feet of her. They looked at Lyssaria, then at the shaking villagers, and then at each other with confused, wide-eyed expressions, silently sharing the exact same thought:

How in the hell did our practical exam turn into a royal court audience?