Morning drills were optional.
Which meant they weren't.
Ryomen arrived at the training grounds precisely on timenot early enough to look eager, not late enough to draw comment. He joined the line of students stretching and warming up under the sharp gaze of the instructors.
The air felt… crowded.
Not with people.
With attention.
He ignored it and loosened his shoulders.
Instructor Halbrecht
"Pair up," Halbrecht barked. "No magic. Pure fundamentals."
Groans rippled through the crowd.
Ryomen stepped back half a pace.
Someone else stepped forward.
Of course they did.
A tall beastkin swordsman with gray fur and a scarred muzzle cracked his neck. "Prince," he said, not unkindly. "Hope you don't mind."
"I don't," Ryomen replied honestly.
They took their stances.
Halbrecht raised a hand.
"Begin."
The beastkin moved fastfast enough to impress, fast enough to overwhelm most students.
Ryomen adjusted.
Not his stance.
The moment.
The beastkin's foot slipped on loose gravel that hadn't been there a second ago. His swing overextended by a hair. Ryomen's wooden sword tapped his wrist.
Once.
Clean.
Halbrecht blinked. "Point to Arker."
The beastkin laughed, shaking out his hand. "Didn't feel cheated," he admitted. "You're good."
Ryomen inclined his head. "You're strong."
That ended it.
No spectacle.
No rumors.
Just another result.
Elowen Sylfaeris
Elowen watched from the sidelines, arms folded too tightly.
That wasn't luck.
But it also wasn't force.
It was like watching someone solve problems she didn't know existed.
She inhaled slowly and made a decision she hadn't planned on making that morning.
After drills, she approached him.
"Ryomen," she said.
He turned. "Elowen."
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. He remembered.
"Your mana control," she said carefully. "It's… unusual."
"Yes."
Just that.
She hesitated. "Would you be willing to"
"No," he said gently.
Her shoulders stiffened.
"not now," he finished. "But later, perhaps."
She studied him, then nodded once. "I'll hold you to that."
He smiled faintly. "I expected you would."
Midday Academy Library
The restricted wing smelled of dust, ink, and wards layered so densely they hummed.
Ryomen moved between shelves, fingers trailing along spines older than most nations. He wasn't looking for power.
He was looking for context.
Wars repeated themselves. Only the excuses changed.
A book slid free beside him.
"History of the First Abyssal Incursion," Brunhilda read aloud, squinting. "Dry title."
"Dry lies well," Ryomen said.
She snorted. "You always talk like that?"
"Only when I'm thinking."
She slid the book back. "You think a lot."
"Yes."
She eyed him. "You ever get tired?"
He paused.
"…Not in the usual sense."
She grinned. "Figures."
Elsewhere Abyssal Rift
Vorthrex watched the mortal world through a scrying veil that distorted and tore at the edges.
The image wavered.
Not because of interference
but because causality refused to show him what came next.
"He limits himself," Vorthrex growled. "Actively."
A lesser demon shifted nervously. "Then why not strike now, lord?"
Vorthrex's claws tightened.
"Because," he said slowly, "he is teaching the world how to exist with him."
That was far worse than domination.
---
Evening Duel Grounds
A notice appeared without fanfare.
Optional Exhibition Match
Advanced Track Candidates
Attendance Encouraged
Encouraged meant expected.
Ryomen read it once and sighed.
They're testing reactions now.
Seraphina appeared at his side, parasol twirling lazily despite the absence of sun.
"You're popular," she said lightly.
"I'd prefer obscure."
She smiled. "Too late."
"Will you be watching?"
Her eyes gleamed. "Closely."
Night Before Sleep
Ryomen sat on his bed, hands resting on his knees.
He closed his eyes and let the threads settle.
Tiny changes today.
A slip here. A stumble there.
No fractures.
No screams from the seal.
Good.
But even as he relaxed, a quiet certainty settled in his chest.
The academy was done observing.
Tomorrow
They would provoke.
And Ryomen would have to decide just how much truth a light novel world could handle at once.