Once Khalia concluded her lecture, she snapped her fingers, instantly teleporting the entire class to the centre of the Academy's vast Training Field.
"Each of you will face a horde of Liches and Undead," Khalia announced coolly. "Your Magium will be strictly capped at the exact cost of two A-rank spells. Furthermore, there is a genuine risk of death today. Do try to survive."
Panic erupted through the ranks. While a handful remained silent, the vast majority voiced sharp protests.
"Human potential only truly unleashes under extreme pressure," Khalia said, her tone devoid of warmth. "And nothing accelerates growth like the threat of mortality. It nauseates me to see how soft you all are. Consider this trial my way of refining crude iron into usable blades."
"You do realise the mountain of trouble you're walking into, Miss Silverstone?" Jeanne's playful yet calculated voice cut through the clamour. She stepped forward, an effortless grin on her face. "I have no issue with practical drills, but risking lives crosses a line."
"I appreciate your concern for your peers, Miss Nova. It merely highlights your own weakness," Khalia countered, locking eyes with her. "Rejecting such a rare trial only proves you've grown comfortable in your mediocrity."
"You're completely insane," Jeanne replied bluntly. "There are infinite ways to foster growth without resorting to reckless, unethical extremes. But then again, running off emotion is entirely on brand for you, Miss Silverstone. Immature and foolish."
Khalia's jaw tightened, suppressing her rising temper. "Have you ever considered how your mother became one of the Four Aristocrats? It wasn't merely high birth or raw talent. It was surviving dozens of scenarios where death was an absolute certainty that forged her power."
"I can't argue with that logic," Amon thought silently, holding Seraphina gently against his side as her head rested on his shoulder. "Her method is reckless, but the underlying truth is sound. My greatest leap in strength only happened after surviving the Red King when I was fully prepared to die."
Jeanne opened her mouth to shoot back another insult, but Amon raised a hand, stopping her short. She blinked at him in stunned disbelief.
"Did dying fry your brain cells, Crown?"
"Not particularly," Amon replied, his expression serene. He turned his gaze toward the professor. "Miss Silverstone, your premise is correct."
Gasps of anger, betrayal, and shock rippled through the class. Nobody could comprehend why someone as sharp as Amon would endorse such an absurd trial.
Amon let the silence stretch before adding, "You may conduct this lesson under your terms—on one condition." His calm smile broadened just enough to sharpen his features. "You must defeat me in a duel first. And as a Prosecutor and Academy Professor, you will cap yourself at fifty percent of your power."
"Do you seriously believe I'd agree to a condition like that?" Khalia raised an eyebrow at his audacious request.
"Yes," Amon replied without missing a beat. Gently handing a slumbering Seraphina over to Jeanne, he stepped toward Khalia, leaning in close to her ear. "Unless, of course, you're afraid of losing to a freshly recruited Prosecutor?"
"You are making a grave mistake, Amon," Khalia whispered back, a vein throbbing at her temple as she fought to keep her composure.
"And you aren't?" Amon countered softly. "How do you think my mother will react when she hears about this little exercise of yours?"
"I thought you were smarter than the rest of this herd, but I was mistaken," Khalia murmured, her voice laced with sharp disappointment. "Did you honestly believe I would let a single student die on my field?"
"Not for a second," Amon replied smoothly. "Though I must commend your acting. It was convincing enough to almost make me second-guess you."
He stepped back, meeting her glare with a perfectly serene smile.
Khalia's eyes narrowed as a cold realisation struck her. "Wait... this entire situation... none of this adds up..." Her stoic expression held, but her mind raced to connect the dots.
"Ah, so my Personal Magic can indeed influence a Prosecutor of your calibre," Amon said softly, his voice carrying an unnerving edge.
"What on earth are you blabbering about, Amon?" Khalia snapped, her glare hardening.
"You see, I never revealed the true nature of my Personal Magic," Amon chuckled. "I've always relied on standard Illusion and Gravity Magic, so I never bothered cultivating it. But after recent events, I finally developed it. And it seems to be extraordinarily potent."
"Illusion?" Khalia's brow furrowed. "There is no active illusion spell in this area."
"Of course not," Amon sighed gently. "To someone slipping into madness, the illusion is reality. My Personal Magic governs four domains: Madness, Illusions, Gravity, and Swords."
The truth hit Khalia like a physical blow. Everything she was experiencing was a layer of phantom reality—an illusion so absolute it transcended deceit. Yet, despite her elite Magium sensitivity, she had felt no spell activation, no Magium spike, nothing.
"It is because my very presence—the simple idea of me—drove your perception off course," Amon explained with a pleasant smile. "The moment Jeanne began arguing against your drill, the illusion had already taken root. Even my inner thoughts were constructed to mislead you."
He slid his hand into his trousers, casually drawing his wand from his right pocket. "In short, merely acknowledging my existence caused your senses to unravel and accept fake reality as absolute truth. Conveniently, I can toggle who falls under its effect."
"It would be wise to concede, Miss Silverstone," Amon added softly. "Everyone here, save for Sera, experienced a tailored illusion. But they all witnessed one constant: my challenge to you. Unless you're eager to endure horrors that would unsettle an eldritch entity, I suggest you admit defeat."
"You honestly expect me to yield?" Khalia glared at him, her Magium flaring defensively.
"Yes," Amon replied without a second's hesitation. "You may have survived more Aimus horrors than I can fathom, but you cannot win against me. Not with a heart as fragile as yours."
It was his serene posture and gentle demeanour that made the threat so deeply unnerving. Khalia bristled at the thought of surrendering, yet she was undeniably at his mercy.
A Personal Magic that weaponised the user's very concept to induce madness—nesting phantom realities that the victim could never hope to pierce—was an anomaly that defied every law of magic.
"What is your decision, Miss Silverstone?" Amon asked smoothly. "Shall I break your mind until you yield, or will you concede gracefully?"
A heavy silence settled over the training field. Khalia stood frozen, genuinely at a loss. Her extensive research on Amon and his performance during the Trials of Worthiness had given her a firm read on his character—or so she had believed.
"The Dark Magium turned him into a monster," Khalia thought, gritting her teeth in bitter frustration. "His alter self operates on a god complex. That's why he doesn't hesitate to push someone of my standing into a corner."
"Fine," Khalia spat out, her voice dropping to an embarrassed whisper. "I concede..."
"I appreciate your prudence, Miss Silverstone." Amon smiled gently—a warm, radiant expression that could melt anyone's heart under normal circumstances.
With an effortless flick of his wand, an audible snap echoed inside Khalia's mind, dissolving the weight of the effect of his Personal Magic.
"Thank you for complying with my humble request."
. . .
It was currently the break period, and the Academy's massive cafeteria was buzzing with life. Students chatted loudly, queued up at food stalls, and filled the room with dynamic energy.
Amon, Jeanne, Seraphina, Lucy, Percy, and Calisto occupied a single large table in the corner.
"What exactly did you do to Khalia back there, Amon?" Jeanne asked, leaning in with genuine curiosity as she watched him calmly enjoy a meal of veggie salad and fresh sushi.
"I simply threatened her," Amon replied smoothly, using his fork to spear a piece of salted lettuce before popping it into his mouth.
"Threatenin' a Professor? Yer really somethin' else, aren't ya?" Percy broke into an audible chuckle, shaking his head.
Seraphina looked at Amon, her brow furrowing with mild concern. "Threatening people is bad, Amon..."
"I know, Sera." He turned toward her, his expression instantly softening into a gentle smile. "But her demands were entirely unreasonable. I merely had to talk some sense into her."
"Geez, you're an oddball as always," Lucy huffed, rolling her eyes. "You could have just asked her nicely. She definitely would've listened to a Crown."
"Lucy, has Calisto's naivety begun rubbing off on you?" Amon asked without even glancing up from his plate, his calm tone dripping with sharp sarcasm. "I thought you were fond of Percy, but I had no idea you were into two-timing."
"Haah?! What on earth is that supposed to mean?" Lucy balled her fists, nearly swinging at Amon across the table before Percy quickly caught her arm to hold her back.
Both Calisto and Seraphina were known as the gentle, pure 'sunshines' of their group, so light jabs at their innocence were a frequent occurrence.
"Twilight Silverstone Khalia pays no mind to status. She does precisely as she pleases," Amon explained casually, taking another bite of his salad. "So, I threatened her with my mother. She happens to be terrified of my mother, so the moment I brought her up, she willingly withdrew her proposal. And thanks to that, we got to enjoy a perfectly normal practical lesson instead."
At that moment, Amon's older sister, Sophia Von Crown, stepped into the cafeteria alongside the rest of the student council. A brief wave of confusion and nervous tension rippled through the room at their sudden appearance.
"We're just here for lunch, everyone. Carry on," Sophia announced smoothly, offering a brief hand gesture. At her signal, the council members dispersed, blending into the surrounding crowd.
Sophia scanned the hall, her eyes lighting up the moment they landed on Amon. Her warm expression flickered, however, as her gaze passed over Seraphina, Lucy, and Jeanne. Masking her displeasure with a tight smile, she dragged an empty chair over to Amon's table, sliding it right beside him before sitting down.
"You could have at least come to see me after you woke up," Sophia said, her lips forming a slight pout.
"I had classes, Sophia," Amon replied without looking up, finally switching over to his fresh sushi. "Besides, I didn't want to interrupt your work."
"Aw, you're always so thoughtful!" Sophia beamed, throwing her arms around Amon and clinging to him affectionately. Normally, Amon would have pushed her away or put a stop to it, but today he simply didn't bother.
"Sophia, please let go. My friends are right here," Amon asked in a flat, even tone.
"What's wrong with showing affection to my adorable future husband in front of his friends?" Sophia cooed.
The moment the words left her mouth, a subtle flash of magic snapped through the air, and Sophia vanished into thin air. The sudden disappearance startled everyone at the table—except Jeanne, who merely watched with an amused smirk.
"One of these days, she's going to drive me to an early grave," Amon muttered under his breath. He let out a long sigh and went back to his sushi.
"What happened to your sister, Amon?" Seraphina asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.
Amon shifted his gaze toward her. She looked so earnest and sweet that a sudden, protective urge washed over him—a fleeting desire to shield her from the world and keep her entirely to himself. He restrained the impulse, keeping his composure intact.
"I teleported her back to the Student Council Office," Amon explained, offering a warm, gentle smile. "Along with a lunchbox I prepared earlier."
"Hey, Amon... what was yer sister talkin' about with that 'husband' stuff?" Percy asked, scratching his chin in total confusion.
"She suffers from a severe, unyielding brother complex," Amon answered matter-of-factly. "It has progressed to the point where she adamantly refuses to marry any other guy but me. We even consulted top specialists, but it proved entirely futile."
"Wait, you can use Spatial Magic?" Lucy blurted out, her jaw dropping in shock. "Teleportation is advanced curriculum—we aren't even scheduled to cover Spatial Theory until our second year..."
"I'm pleasantly surprised your mind isn't entirely consumed by that wager you made with Percy," Amon remarked, his polite smile remaining perfectly fixed. "Or perpetually plotting ways to charm him."
"Why, you—!" Lucy's face flushed bright red. She balled her hand into a tight fist and threw a sharp right hook straight at his face.
Amon tilted his head back with effortless grace, letting the punch graze empty air.
Before Lucy could follow up, Seraphina and Percy grabbed her arms, desperately pulling her back to defuse the scene. Meanwhile, Calisto stared at Amon, a quiet question forming in his mind.
"I pick on Lucy simply because her reactions are entertaining," Amon stated casually, turning his attention toward Calisto before the boy could speak. "And before you ask, your exact train of thought was broadcast clearly across your face. I believe I've mentioned that reason before."
"Ah... right," Calisto chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as the memory returned to him.
. . .
"I had hoped for a peaceful day, but reality rarely aligns with expectations, does it?" Amon thought, stifling a quiet sigh as he looked up at the imposing figure blocking his path.
The towering upperclassman was none other than Zephyra Valkaress. She looked down at him with an arrogant, sharp-edged smirk. "You're the top scorer among the first-years, aren't you?"
"I was," Amon corrected smoothly, his tone entirely unruffled. "I spent the past week on mandatory bed rest, which allowed Jeanne Nova to take the top spot. If you are hunting for the highest-ranked student, I suggest you seek her out."
"You're also the Student Council President's precious little brother," Zephyra countered, her amusement growing. "If I thrash you publicly, she'll have no choice but to accept my duel request. Word around campus is that she's absurdly protective of you."
"Senior, I have no desire to fight you," Amon stated, his expression remaining completely placid.
A heavy silence fell over the bustling hallway. Nearby onlookers exchanged anxious glances, silently offering prayers for the first-year. Now that Zephyra had locked onto her target, she wouldn't back down until blood was spilt.
A short distance away, Amon's group watched the confrontation unfold. Calisto stood with his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, a surge of burning fury rising in his chest as memories of the humiliating defeat she had handed him resurfaced.
"Ya might as well get yer coin pouch ready, Lucy," Percy drawled, nudging her with a teasing grin. "I don't see Amon walkin' away from this one without takin' a beating."
"As much as he drives me up the wall, I don't think he's losing," Lucy replied sharply, keeping her eyes glued to the scene. "Zephyra might be an absolute monster, but Amon's power is no joke either."
"We need to step in and stop this..." Seraphina pleaded, taking a step forward to intervene.
Lucy caught her by the shoulder, pulling her back. "It's suicide to step between them right now, Sera."
"Why not?!" Seraphina snapped, turning to Lucy with a rare flare of annoyance cutting through her gentle demeanour. "Lucy, he literally just woke up today! I am not letting him get hurt again!"
Two towering silhouettes manifested directly behind Zephyra, radiating an oppressive, suffocating pressure that instantly made the hallway air heavy. The figures were none other than Amou and Tiamat.
"It would be wise to step out of our Master's path, little girl," Amou warned. Gone was her usual playfulness; her voice dripped with a pure, concentrated malice that sent a visible shiver through the surrounding crowd.
Zephyra, however, merely turned her head, utterly unfazed.
"Oh? Are you two his little pets?" Zephyra smirked, scanning them up and down. "Judging by that heavy aura, I take it you're not just for show."
"A pathetic creature like you isn't even capable of comprehending our strength," Tiamat spat coldly, cracking her knuckles with a dangerous, rhythmic pop.
"Stand down, both of you," Amon commanded softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh. He turned his blindfolded gaze back to the upperclassman. "Senior, your sole objective is to fight me, correct?"
"Naturally!" Zephyra laughed, her eyes glinting with excitement. "I appreciate a man who gets straight to the point."
"Master, you cannot possibly entertain this!" Amou snapped, her composure cracking with concern. "You only just recovered today!"
"I am more than capable, Amou," Amon replied calmly. "Besides, someone needs to put this musclehead in her place. I have no desire to deal with another obsessed stalker trailing me every single day." Though spoken in his usual serene tone, the underlying sarcasm and sheer arrogance were unmistakable.
Zephyra's grin widened, her eyes flashing with dangerous amusement. "You certainly have a mouth on you, junior," she purred. "Meet me in the Duelling Hall in ten minutes. Don't keep me waiting."
Without waiting for an answer, Zephyra brushed past Amon and sauntered down the corridor, her posture radiating absolute, unshakable pride.
"I know her capabilities inside and out from the original plot," Amon thought, his mind rapidly calculating every possible strategy as he watched her retreating back. "Under normal circumstances, taking a fight so soon after recovering would be reckless. But with my Personal Magic, she presents a necessary variable."
He knew the weight of this decision. Zephyra was a critical linchpin in the early narrative structure.
"Crushing her here will shatter the story's intended trajectory," Amon mused. "Forcing the remaining plot points to deviate even further off course."