The streets of the central district were already illuminated, rows of softly glowing lamps casting steady pools of light across the wide avenues.
The crowd here was noticeably thinner than in the outer and inner districts, yet it was no less imposing. Every passerby carried an unmistakable aura of strength. Even casual movements hinted at cultivation far above what ordinary cities could boast.
Shops still lined both sides of the road, but unlike elsewhere, their facades were lavish to the point of excess. Every storefront radiated prestige, and Lyra quickly understood why.
Each of these establishments was backed by one of the Five Peak Clans.
With such support, no one dared cause trouble here. Powerhouses walked openly through the streets, yet the air remained orderly, restrained. In this place, rules were enforced not by words, but by the certainty of overwhelming retaliation.
After nearly twenty minutes of walking, Silvia slowed her steps.
They had arrived.
Before them stood a vast gated complex, its scale alone enough to inspire reverence. Numerous buildings lay beyond the gates, arranged with deliberate symmetry, their silhouettes partially obscured by the night.
But what seized Lyra's attention was the pillar.
It rose nearly a hundred meters into the air, forged from Earthen Core Alloy, a metal so rare and resilient it was said to be worth more than entire cities. Its surface bore the weight of countless years, yet not a single crack marred it.
Mounted at its summit was a massive black dragon's head.
Lyra's eyes narrowed instantly.
She had read about black dragons in the Blaze Clan's records. They were demigod-level beasts, creatures that stood at the threshold of divinity. Even in death, their remains carried a pressure far beyond that of Emperors… even Saints.
The aura radiating from the head pressed down on her soul like an invisible mountain.
If not for her cultivation and preparation, her knees might have buckled.
And yet, the most shocking detail was not the dragon's blood-red eyes, nor the terrifying pressure it exuded.
It was the deep palm print embedded squarely in the center of its forehead.
Not a claw mark.
Not a weapon wound.
A palm.
Lyra's breath stilled.
That single impression spoke of absolute dominance. Of a being who had slain a demigod with nothing but their bare hand.
Beneath the dragon's head, carved directly into the pillar, were two words.
Royal Academy
The characters looked as though they had been etched by a sword itself. Merely gazing at them made Lyra's throat tighten, as if a blade hovered just short of cutting her down.
"This is the first test," Silvia said quietly. "If one cannot endure this pressure, they have no place on the battlefield."
Lyra said nothing. She straightened her back and followed Silvia through the gates.
Inside the compound, the atmosphere shifted.
A wide path stretched ahead, paved with Blue Moonstone, its surface glowing faintly beneath the lamps. Spirit trees of various kinds lined both sides, their leaves shimmering gently as they absorbed the dense spiritual energy saturating the grounds.
They walked in silence.
After another fifteen minutes, the sound of splashing water reached Lyra's ears.
A massive fountain came into view, its steady flow filling the night with a calming rhythm. Several paths branched away from it, leading deeper into the academy grounds.
Silvia took the path on the right.
They passed multiple faculty buildings before stopping in front of a structure that looked ancient compared to the rest. Its walls were weathered, its design simple yet dignified.
A plaque above the entrance read:
Admissions Office
They stepped inside.
The hall beyond was spacious, supported by thick stone pillars. The decor leaned heavily toward an ancient aesthetic, stripped of excess but rich in history.
At the desk at the far end sat a man.
He was dressed shabbily, his hair unkempt and hanging over his face. One arm clutched a large bottle of wine, while his head lolled forward.
He was snoring.
Loudly.
Silvia approached the desk and coughed lightly.
"Greetings, Elder Wood," she said respectfully. "I have brought a new student. Please make the necessary arrangements."
The man waved his hand without lifting his head.
"Go away," he slurred. "Admissions are over. Come back after three years."
Silvia's smile did not waver.
"Elder," she replied calmly, "the admissions period ends in twenty minutes."
She paused, then added lightly, "Should I inform the Wandering Elder that you are… resting on duty?"
The effect was immediate.
Elder Wood stiffened, his head snapping upright. His eyes, sharp beneath the disheveled hair, flicked toward Silvia.
"Tch."
He pointed lazily toward a glowing screen beside the desk.
"Enter her information. Take the token. She waits for the entrance test at dawn. Now go away and stop bothering me."
Lyra stepped forward and did as instructed.
As she entered her details, she also input the special code her grandfather had given her—one that confirmed her placement as an inner disciple.
She remembered his words clearly.
Even with a guaranteed spot, take the entrance test seriously. This is your chance to be evaluated by the academy's true powerhouses. Fail to impress, and you'll lose the opportunity to be chosen by an expert.
A special admission ensured entry.
It did not ensure recognition.
Once finished, Silvia nodded to her.
"Head to the back of the building. The others are already gathering."
With that, she turned and left without further ceremony.
Lyra took a steady breath and walked toward the rear entrance.
Beyond it lay the waiting area.
And the first true step into the Royal Academy.