A hush, deeper than the one Frederic had commanded, fell over the hall as the woman ascended the podium. She moved with an innate, fluid grace that made the very air seem to part for her. Her hair was a waterfall of obsidian, cascading down her back in a sleek, dark river.
She was clad in a long, elegant dress of the same profound black, its hem kissed by a single, striking stripe of crimson that ran its entire circumference like a ring of fresh blood. The fabric, while modest, could not completely conceal the subtle, alluring curves of her form, hinting at a beauty that was both regal and intensely feminine.
But it was her face that truly stole the breath from every lung.
It was a masterpiece of symmetry, as if carved by a divine artisan who had perfected every ratio. Her nose was a straight, elegant line, neither too large nor too small, sitting perfectly between high cheekbones.
A sweep of thick, dark lashes framed eyes of the most startling crimson—not the dull red of rust or clay, but the vibrant, living scarlet of freshly spilled arterial blood. When the light from the chandeliers caught them, they seemed to glow with an inner fire, holding a depth and intensity that was both captivating and unnerving.
One look from those eyes could launch a thousand ships and topple a thousand more men.
"Lord have mercy on my soul…" Bradley breathed the words without conscious thought, his gaze locked onto her. What in the hell is Lady Sansa? She is gorgeous, way too gorgeous. He thought inwardly.
He had almost forgotten that in worlds like these, beauty often seemed to be a trait honed by the very air people breathed, a stark contrast to the more mundane appearances of his past life.
"You did not have to go that hard on them, Sir Frederic," she said, her voice a soft, melodic counterpoint to his rumbling bass. It was the sound of warm honey and summer sunlight.
"I did not go hard on them, Lady Sansa," Frederic replied, his expression as immovable as a mountain. "They should be able to handle that much." He took a single, respectful step back, ceding the space to her completely.
Sansa offered him a sigh that was more fond than exasperated, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips as if this were a familiar dance between them. She then stepped forward to the podium's edge, her crimson gaze sweeping across the sea of young faces.
Her eyes moved with a deliberate, almost predatory grace, scanning each child as if reading the very essence of their souls.
For a fleeting, heart-stopping moment, that piercing gaze seemed to pause on Bradley. A jolt, like a static shock, ran down his spine. Did she just look at me? Specifically? The contact lasted less than a second before her eyes moved on, leaving him wondering if it was merely his imagination.
"I hope you all have been well, my children," she began, her voice washing over them, warm and encompassing. "Time truly flies. It feels like just yesterday you were all stumbling toddlers, and now you stand on the cusp of adulthood." Her smile was a thing of genuine affection. "Of course, you will always be my babies."
A wave of soft chuckles and warm smiles spread through the crowd. The tension Frederic had instilled melted away under her presence.
She seems… genuinely kind, Bradley observed, his analytical mind working. Look at them. They're utterly captivated. Not a single whisper since she started speaking.
"You have been taught and trained for this day. Your Awakening Day. A new phase that will open doors you have only dreamed of," she continued, her tone uplifting. "But to walk through those doors, you must first pass the trial, just as we adults did before you. You are the new generation. We expect great things from you. I know it may seem daunting, but it is not impossible. Have faith in yourselves, and in the effort you have poured into your preparation."
Then, her smile faded. The warmth in her eyes did not vanish, but it was tempered by a sudden, sobering gravity. The air in the hall seemed to grow colder. "This trial is dangerous. If it is not treated with the utmost respect, some of you may die today."
A collective, audible gulp rippled through the students.
"I am not here to sugarcoat my words or lie to you. Many have fallen in these trials." Her voice was soft, yet it carried to every corner with devastating clarity. "But I, as your mother, hold onto the hope that every single one of you, my children, will emerge victorious. That is all I ask. Do you understand?"
"YES, MOTHER!" The reply was a unified roar, filled with fervor and devotion.
Mother, huh…, Bradley mused, a complex emotion stirring in his chest. It was a good speech. Stirring. But she and I both know there are no guarantees. The world doesn't deal in fairness. A cold, familiar truth settled in his gut. Being weak is a sin. The weak are simply… culled. Therefore, I doubt everyone is going to survive.
"Now, I cannot disclose anything more about the trial itself—that is for your instructors. But in truth, there is little left that you do not already know." She paused, and a subtle shift occurred in her demeanor. "If you were not already aware, we are going to the capital for the trial. Everyone will be there… including the nobles."
A restless murmur spread through the crowd like a contagion. Faces that had been filled with adoration moments before now twisted into frowns of displeasure. Some showed raw anger, others a flicker of deep-seated fear.
They really don't like nobles, Bradley noted. Which makes perfect sense. A hall full of orphans and commoners… they've probably been on the receiving end of that arrogance their whole lives.
"I know," Sansa said, her voice placating yet firm, quelling the discontent. "I know you are not fans of their… attitudes. But remember, not all who bear a noble title are cut from the same cloth. If it were within my power, I would have the trial held here, within the safety of our home. But the Emperor has decreed that this year, every child shall attend in the capital." Her gaze hardened imperceptibly. "And besides, you will have to face them eventually. It is better to learn to stand your ground now."
There is definitely going to be some face-slapping drama, Bradley predicted with an inward chuckle, crossing his arms. I just hope this 'pretty boy' face of mine doesn't attract the wrong kind of attention. That would be far too cumbersome.
"Do not worry," Sansa's voice cut through his thoughts, firm as tempered steel. "I will be there. I will not allow anyone to lay a hand on my children." The promise in her words was absolute.
"Additionally, I doubt I will even need to intervene. The instructors there permit no fighting, regardless of status. Noble or commoner, everyone has an equal right to awaken. No one has the authority to tell you that you do not deserve to be there."
If she can make a declaration like that with such confidence, her power or influence must be substantial, Bradley reasoned. It fits the archetype—the devastatingly beautiful woman who is also a force of nature.
He leaned slightly toward Adrian, his voice a low murmur. "What do you think is going to happen out there?"
Adrian, who had remained leaning against the wall with an air of detached calm, didn't turn his head. "I do not doubt Lady Sansa's words. But words and reality are often strangers. There will always be arrogant nobles who look at us like we're trash stuck to their boots." He finally glanced at Bradley, his purple eyes glinting. "Personally, I don't care for such trivialities. Strength decides everything. If you're arrogant but weak, you're just pathetic."
A genuine smile touched Bradley's lips. He found himself agreeing wholeheartedly.
Adrian continued, "That is why this trial is everything. It determines your standing in this society. Because even if you succeed, there is no guarantee you will awaken a powerful magical ability."
Bradley nodded silently. It's like a gacha system. A cosmic lottery. You roll the dice with your very soul as the stake. The unfairness of it was almost beautiful in its starkness. If everyone could gain immense power, the world would descend into chaos. Yet, it also meant there would always be a powerless underclass to be trampled by the strong. A perfect, miserable equilibrium.
"Remember," Sansa's voice called them back to the present. "Always be respectful, and do not cause trouble. Agreed?"
"YES, MOTHER!" the hall thundered back.
"Great." Her warm, radiant smile returned, and it felt like the sun breaking through storm clouds. Bradley almost blinked. Yeah, no. That smile could single-handedly melt the entire Antarctica.
"Now, we shall depart for the capital. It should take us no more than two minutes."
A wave of confusion passed through the students. "Huh? Two minutes?" Bradley echoed the collective sentiment, turning to Adrian. "Is the capital that close? Or are we already within its borders?"
Adrian shook his head, a frown of his own marring his features. "No. We're in the city of Lauriana, far to the west. A carriage journey to the capital would take at least five days. Even with a teleportation gate, it would take minutes, if not hours. I don't understand… we don't have a gate here in the orphanage."
Teleportation gates. Now that's properly cool, Bradley thought, a thrill of anticipation mixing with a familiar dread. I want to try one, but I have a feeling my stomach is going to stage a full-scale rebellion.
So if the capital is that far, why the casual two-minute estimate? Unless… A theory, wild and incredible, formed in his mind. Unless she herself is the gate.
As if she had plucked the thought directly from his head, Lady Sansa spoke, her voice calm and matter-of-fact. "I will be teleporting us now."
She raised a single, slender hand and snapped her fingers.
The sound was crisp, final.
The air hummed, charged with an immense, gathering power. Then, from nothing, a colossal magical circle ignited on the marble floor beneath their feet. It was a complex, breathtaking design of deep crimson, woven with runes that pulsed with a light that seemed to drink the warmth from the air. The circle expanded in an instant, perfectly encircling every single student in the hall.
I knew i—
The thought was severed, cut off before it could fully form. There was no sensation of movement, no dizzying spin, no nauseating lurch. One moment, Bradley was standing in the opulent hall, the scent of polish and nervous sweat in his nose. The next, reality itself seemed to stutter, to blink.
He saw the shocked faces of the remaining caretakers, their mouths forming perfect 'O's of astonishment.
And then, the world vanished.
********
Author's note : Only one chapter today cause I am not home.