The Knights Academy of the Capital was enormous.
Con could hear it long before he walked through the gates.
Hundreds of footsteps across stone courtyards.
Steel swords clashing during training.
Instructors shouting orders.
Students arguing loudly.
The place sounded alive.
To the boys from the quiet village, it was overwhelming.
Daren let out a long whistle.
"Gods… this place is huge."
Mikel nodded.
"There must be hundreds of trainees."
"Thousands," Jorin corrected quietly.
Tomas scratched the back of his neck nervously.
"Suddenly I don't feel very confident."
Daren clapped him on the back.
"You'll be fine."
Then he pointed at Con.
"Besides, we trained with him."
That statement alone made everyone relax a little.
Because it was true.
For years, they had sparred with Con nearly every day near the brook.
At the time, they thought it was normal.
Now they were beginning to suspect something else.
The entrance test lasted three days.
Strength tests.
Endurance trials.
Swordsmanship evaluations.
Strategy assessments.
Hundreds of hopeful trainees gathered on the massive training fields.
Many were sons of knights.
Some were minor nobles.
Others were village youths like Con and his friends.
The instructors watched carefully from the sidelines.
The first test was simple.
A timed endurance run across the training grounds.
The signal horn sounded.
"Begin!"
Dozens of trainees sprinted forward.
Con ran too.
Calm.
Balanced.
His blindfold fluttered behind him as his feet struck the ground with quiet precision.
He listened to everything.
Footsteps.
Breathing.
Wind direction.
Ground texture.
Every detail formed a perfect map inside his mind.
He finished first.
Not barely first.
Far ahead.
The instructors exchanged looks.
"…interesting."
The second test was strength.
Lifting weighted stone blocks.
Climbing a wooden tower using only rope.
Con passed easily.
So did Daren.
And surprisingly—
Mikel, Jorin, and Tomas performed far better than most trainees.
One instructor raised an eyebrow.
"Those boys."
Another nodded.
"They trained together."
"Whoever taught them did a good job."
The instructors' eyes slowly returned to Con.
The blindfolded boy standing quietly among the trainees.
The final and most important test was combat.
Wooden practice swords were handed out.
Trainees would spar in pairs.
Winners advanced.
Losers were eliminated.
Daren stretched his arms confidently.
"Alright."
"Time to prove we're amazing."
Tomas gulped.
"I'm going to die."
"You're not going to die."
"Easy for you to say."
Then the matches began.
One by one.
Trainees stepped forward to spar.
Wood struck wood.
Footsteps scraped against the dirt arena.
Instructors watched silently.
Soon—
Con's name was called.
"Constantine."
His opponent stepped forward.
A tall boy wearing expensive training armor.
The son of a minor noble.
The crowd murmured slightly when they saw Con's blindfold.
The noble boy frowned.
"…seriously?"
He raised his wooden sword.
"You're blind."
Con nodded politely.
"Yes."
"That's ridiculous."
The instructor crossed his arms.
"Begin."
The noble boy attacked immediately.
Fast.
Aggressive.
Confident.
His sword swung downward.
But Con moved slightly.
Just one step.
The blade cut through empty air.
The noble boy blinked.
Then Con tapped his shoulder with the wooden sword.
Lightly.
"Match over," the instructor announced.
The crowd went quiet.
The noble boy stared in disbelief.
"…what."
The next opponent lasted three strikes.
The one after that lasted two.
By the time Con reached the final round—
People had stopped murmuring.
Now they were simply watching.
Carefully.
The instructors leaned forward.
One whispered.
"His footwork."
Another replied.
"Perfect."
"He moves before the opponent even attacks."
"How?"
The answer was simple.
Con could hear every muscle shift.
Every breath.
Every small adjustment of weight.
To him—
Combat sounded like a conversation.
And he always knew what the other person would say next.
The final opponent attacked fiercely.
But the result was the same.
Three clean strikes.
The match ended.
Con stood calmly in the arena.
Victorious.
Meanwhile, his friends were doing surprisingly well too.
Daren fought like a charging bull.
Mikel relied on careful technique.
Jorin remained calm and precise.
Even Tomas—
who had been certain he would fail—
won two matches easily.
One instructor shook his head slowly.
"These boys are strong."
Another nodded.
"Too strong for first-year trainees."
Their eyes returned to Con again.
"…I think we know why."
But not everyone was pleased.
One nobleman stood near the viewing platform.
His son had been the first boy defeated by Con.
The man's expression was cold.
"This is absurd."
He stepped forward toward the instructors.
"That boy should not be admitted."
The instructors frowned.
"And why not?"
The nobleman pointed toward Con.
"He's blind."
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
"A knight must see the battlefield."
"He is clearly unfit."
The instructors looked uncertain.
Technically—
The man had a point.
But before anyone could respond—
A calm voice spoke.
"He passed."
Everyone turned.
An elderly man stood at the top of the platform.
The Headmaster of the Knights Academy.
His white hair moved gently in the wind as he looked down at the arena.
"He passed every test," the headmaster continued calmly.
"Better than anyone else."
The nobleman frowned.
"But he—"
"A knight's duty," the headmaster interrupted, "is to prove strength, discipline, and skill."
His eyes moved toward Con.
"This boy has demonstrated all three."
The nobleman clenched his jaw.
"But he is blind."
The headmaster shrugged lightly.
"And yet he defeated your son."
The crowd went silent.
The nobleman had no answer.
After a long moment, he turned away angrily.
The headmaster looked down toward the arena again.
"Constantine."
Con stepped forward immediately.
"Yes, sir."
"You are accepted into the academy."
Con lowered his head deeply.
A full respectful bow.
"Thank you, Headmaster."
The old man watched him carefully.
There was something unusual about the boy.
Something calm.
Something disciplined.
Something… dangerous.
But also sincere.
The headmaster smiled faintly.
"Train well."
"Yes, sir."
Behind Con, his friends cheered loudly.
"Con did it!"
"We all did it!"
Daren punched the air triumphantly.
"Knights Academy!"
The instructors watched the group of village boys celebrating together.
One of them muttered quietly.
"…this generation might be interesting."