Chronis woke before dawn.
She prepared quickly, movements precise, habitual, and silent. By the time the academy bells rang, she was already on her way to class.
The Cognition instructor wasted no time that day.
Without ceremony, he led the class away from their usual lecture hall and into a restricted wing of the academy. The air there felt different—still, contained, layered with suppression arrays that hummed faintly beneath the stone.
They stopped before a wide door marked with the sigil of the Wisdom Aspect.
Inside lay the resource chamber.
Shelves lined the walls, each sectioned and labeled, crystal cases holding rows of sealed vials. The energy within them was restrained, refined, and unmistakably valuable.
The instructor turned to the class.
"For the City Academy Competition," he said, "each of you may select four elixirs. Choose carefully. These will be used for practice and preparation."
A murmur spread through the students.
Four elixirs was generous—almost reckless.
Chronis said nothing.
Her gaze moved calmly across the room, already cataloging contents, purity, and intent. Rank-1 resources were not powerful, but they were foundational.
And foundations, she knew, decided far more than most people ever realized.
The elixirs were divided into five types.
Physique, Strength, Defense, Healing, and Mobility.
Each corresponded to one of the core combat functions. Rank-1 only—safe, limited, and meant to shape foundations rather than power.
Most students went straight for Strength and Defense. Mobility followed. Physique was ignored. Healing was taken only by the cautious.
Chronis simply observed.
Foundations mattered more than flash.
She scanned the shelves—and paused.
Among the Mobility elixirs, one vial stood apart.
Cognition: Predictive Gale
Interesting.
Cognition: Predictive Gale…A rare formulation—yet left to gather dust, pushed to the side as though it were worthless.
Chronis' lips curved faintly.
If the City Lord were to see this, she wondered what his reaction would be.Amusement? Regret?
She finalized her choices quickly.
One elixir each for Physique, Offense, Defense, and Mobility.
She ignored Healing entirely.
Injury was unlikely to begin with. Even restrained, her body was still that of a Rank 4 demon—durability far beyond anything these trials could realistically threaten.
And if something did go wrong?
The academy's healers would handle it better than any Rank-1 vial ever could. Most were Rank 2. A few even Rank 3. Their techniques were refined, stable, and immediate.
There was no reason to waste a slot.
Resources were not about safety.
They were about efficiency.
Serik made the same selections.
Physique.Offense.Defense.Mobility.
Exactly as he had in his previous life.
For the past two months, the academy had focused on fundamentals.
Students were taught how the five aspects functioned in practice. Time in the gym was mandatory—body conditioning, movement drills, basic barrier formation. Their physiques were trained first, techniques second.
Elixirs, however, were not permitted.
Resources were withheld until now.
Only after foundations were laid did the academy allow selection.
Chronis entered the gym.
It was crowded. Training dummies filled the floor, students moving between them in scattered routines. As she walked in, attention followed her—glances lingering longer than they should. It was natural. She neither acknowledged nor reacted.
She moved to an empty dummy.
Physique first.A controlled strike—testing force transfer.Defense next—brief barrier reinforcement, immediately withdrawn.Then mobility—short bursts of movement, precise and minimal.
Everything was restrained. Measured. Enough to confirm function, not enough to stand out.
She had already drawn more attention than she preferred over the past weeks, thanks to the earlier incident. There was no need to add to it.
Training continued.
Three weeks passed.
On the eve of the City Academy Competition, the academy released the resource sheet—the rewards allotted to each placement.
By the next day, everything would be decided.
Chronis' gaze halted on a single entry.
An attack elixir.
Blood of Wisdom.
Her expression didn't change—but her attention sharpened.
It could be combined with a standard attack elixir.
Refined together, the two would fuse—turning a simple offensive boost into a far more lethal strike.
Five hundred students across the four academies registered for the competition.
They were mostly the sons and daughters of elites.
Those from poorer families tended to avoid it. The risks were real, the injuries permanent, and without backing, the rewards rarely justified the cost. For them, survival and steady advancement mattered more than spectacle.
The ones who stepped forward did so with clear intent.
Reputation.Resources.
Glory was secondary. Power was the real prize.
Serik glanced over the list.
He considered a few names, noted what mattered, and then lost interest.
With that, he turned and left.
Mila's gaze lingered on Chronis.
If I get a chance to fight her… I'll win, she thought. Then Serik will see she's nothing.
Her lips tightened.
A Cognition Aspect user. Probably weak. Frail. All thought, no force.
She looked away with a quiet snort.
It won't even be a challenge.
Across the hall, Kael Tharos, the second son of the Tharos family, watched Serik with thinly veiled enmity.
Over the past weeks, Chronis' growing popularity had not gone unnoticed. Neither had his own interest in her. What began as curiosity had hardened into something sharper.
And Serik stood in the way.
Kael's jaw tightened.
The sight of him—calm, admired, untouchable—only fed the irritation burning beneath the surface.
If only he knew.
That Rhea was a man. And that Chronis had zero interest in either Serik or him.
The thought was almost amusing.
It's time, Chronis thought.
She returned to her residence, closed the door behind her, and went to sleep.