Rozipool's Dome Arena.
This building had been constructed to alleviate the boredom of the nobles' tedious days. From all sorts of events and performances to pulse-pounding sports that seized their attention, everything unfolded here.
With a capacity to easily hold 100,000 people, and nobles overflowing with wealth and free time packed into the capital Rozipool, the place was always swarming with visitors seeking to banish their ennui—except on holidays.
Normally, the first-floor information desk would have endless lines for ticket sales and seat reservation checks. The attendants would barely survive the onslaught of customers crashing in like waves, only to collapse in exhaustion by day's end.
But today, the arena's interior was utterly deserted. Instead of desk attendants welcoming guests, soldiers clutching rifles stood guard in full alert.
"Yaaawn... So boring."
The soldier perched at the information desk—a sniper on duty—let out a weary yawn and buried her face on the tabletop.
"How long do we have to stick around here?"
"Until the academy applicant screening wraps up. No leaving your post until then."
Outside the massive curtain draped across the arena's center, people were lining up one by one to prove their eligibility for the entrance exam.
There was only one way to prove it: cross the curtain into the arena and hand in your application. Soldiers from the Zerta Kingdom, hired by the academy, waited at this very desk for applicants.
Rarely did anyone successfully cross and demonstrate their talent, so duty here was light. Far better than being swamped with work, her deputy sniper partner added.
"The other soldiers are out there freezing their asses off on sentry duty in this cold. We're sitting pretty with the heater blasting—way better gig."
"Fair point, but sitting here doing jack all is boring me to death. When's it over?"
"Any minute now. But don't forget: patrol around the arena right after."
"Ehhh? That too? I was gonna grab lunch nearby as soon as we're done!"
"Forgot already? No lunch till the exam ends. That's why the government's tossing in hazard pay."
"Oh yeah? Explains the extra in my paycheck today."
"Please stay awake during briefings for once!"
She shot her senior a piercing glare. Sweating bullets under the fierce stare, the sniper knew better than to spout more nonsense—lest a nagging typhoon hit.
She pivoted topics instead.
"Speaking of, seen the faces of this batch's applicants? All so cute and adorable!"
"Aren't they noble brats raised in luxury? Exceptions aside, anyone testing in this city ain't average."
Academy entrance exams happened worldwide—from metropolises like Rozipool to unmapped backwaters—all to unearth top talents.
Zerta Kingdom's capital admitted only ID holders, and even among mana-wielding nobles, only those craving validation took the test.
"Academic gospel: mana keeps you in peak condition, auto-managing skin and looks. Nobles born mana-rich? Forget about it."
"Guess that's why I'm pretty too? Skin's always so plump and glossy."
"You, at basic mana possession? Comparing to noble heirs?"
"Check your flaky cheeks, junior. Tragic without even common mana for upkeep. Lotion might help."
"Plenty of noble guys lack mana too. Stop yanking my face—look alive. We'll get dinged for slacking if seen."
"Such a worrywart. Everyone crossing the curtain already has. Who's left?"
"Is this the application submission spot?"
"Hyaaak!"
Thud!
"Told you."
"Oooow..."
The sniper jolted at the abrupt voice, tumbling backward in shock.
Her deputy sighed like the world was ending, then turned to the visitor while she groaned from the head smack.
"Sorry for the noise. You can file your academy entrance app here. Need help registering?"
"Yes, please."
Her response came businesslike and flat, yet that faint smile could kindle affections like a spark to tinder.
Her jet-black hair, woven like midnight jewels, was neatly ponytail-bound. Ruby-red eyes brimmed with life, radiating a hypnotic glow that ensnared souls.
The tailored black suit screamed refined minimalism; at her belt hung a sword pulsing eerie vibes, sheathed snug.
"S-s-save me... Can't... breathe."
"Relax. I've got this."
Beside the poised girl clung a shivering figure gripping her collar.
Swaddled head-to-toe in a blanket stitched with excessively cute animals and anime chars, features were a total mystery.
The muffled, stuttering voice hinted female—somehow endearingly cute amid the wheezes.
"Fill in your details here, and I'll pass it to academy staff."
The soldier offered pen and paper. She filled it fluidly as directed and handed it back.
"Got it. Chloe Opal. Opal Family heir, huh."
"What—Chloe Opal?! Sword Saint's daughter, here?!"
The sniper blurted during signature check, springing up and forgetting her head throb at the celeb sighting.
"No way, for real! Prettier IRL! So cuuute!"
"Thanks."
"Senior, seriously. Back off."
The deputy yanked her senior's collar, blocking the shameless face-plant at Chloe.
Chloe smiled it off wordlessly.
Trouble hit next.
"Hang on—that one beside her?"
"Eek!"
"Understood, Ev—"
Click!
As the sniper named her shadow-stalker aloud, Chloe's red eyes flashed murderously.
Her hand rested on the sword hilt; killing intent choked the air.
"Eh?"
The oblivious sniper finally clocked the peril, cold sweat beading.
Powder keg primed, her deputy defused fast.
"That person's details pre-registered by upper command! Head right to the waiting room—academy staff'll brief you."
"...Carry on."
Mask off, voice like glacial steel, she departed without a backward glance.
In the frigid hush, the sniper croaked.
"D-did I just dodge death?"
"Heaven, hell, round trip."
"Ughhh... Dead."
Her deputy shook his head at the tension-crumbled sniper on the floor.
Chloe cut a rare saintly figure in lunatic noble circles—mercy for all, from plebs to scum, hand extended freely.
But she had one untouchable reverse scale: her bosom buddy shadowing her at times. Address her? Expect Chloe's disproportionate wrath.
"Why poke noble nerves as Zerta folk?"
"C'mon, wanted Amethyst lady's face."
"Fair. Intriguing, yeah."
Eva Amethyst of Amethyst Family: face shrouded in fog.
Peerless beauty buzz only; true visage known solely to kin and confidants—a lingering enigma.
"Still, no more stunts. Superiors catch wind? Beyond scolding."
"Fine."
He patted his moping senior's shoulder. Three years together—even sour bonds deserved effort.
"Anyway, senior—pack up, prep for patrol."
"Time left for registration? We wait here, right?"
"Just pack. Exceptions unlikely; all VIPs from above arrived. No formalities needed."
No duty left, he rose from chair-back lean.
"Coffee run to nearby cafe? Your pick?"
"Vanilla latte! Extra whip!"
"Gotcha."
Order noted, he exited the arena.
Academy mages keyed the curtain for free pass-thru, so he hopped in his car, firing it up for drinks outside.
Rumble!
"What the—?"
Sudden quake, heart-rattling ill vibe—he peered out urgently.
Shatter!
The sky-draped curtain exploded in shards, cascading like blue rain. Mesmerizing sight, but he shook it off, racing back to the desk.
"Senior! Disaster!"
Coffee later—report the catastrophe first.