The Anomaly's Path

I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

I had the same ocean-blue eyes and the same sharp jawline, along with that long white hair that still caught me off guard every time I caught my own reflection. Yet, the person standing before me in the glass looked entirely different.

I looked cleaner, sharper, as if someone had taken the tired, blood-soaked version of me that had crawled out of the Sealed Valley and meticulously polished every rough edge until something almost respectable emerged.

”If a great swordmaster’s real test is surviving a battle, then a noble’s real test is getting out of a fancy suit alive,” I muttered.

[That is not a real proverb, Host.]

It is now.

I had spent the better part of an hour getting ready, but not because I was dirty. The exam filth had been washed away days ago. No, the time was wasted on stupid things — trying to get my long hair to sit right.

”...I really need to cut them short.”

Now I stood here, dripping onto the tile floor, wrapped in nothing but a towel and a growing sense of dread.

The orientation was about to start. The day when the two hundred survivors would stand in front of the world and be judged. The day when the rankings would be announced and the top candidate — me, apparently — would be revealed as the Primus.

The day when I would have to stand on a stage and not set anything on fire.

I grabbed the black shirt from the hanger and pulled it over my head. Soft fabric, expensive. The Academy had sent a tailor to measure me three days ago. A whole person whose job was to stand there with a measuring tape while I tried not to look awkward.

The pants were next. Black, fitted, comfortable. The boots were polished to a mirror shine, the leather still stiff from lack of use.

And then there was the coat.

I pulled it off the rack and held it up. Midnight-black fabric with silver threading along the edges, sharp and intricate, like veins of lightning frozen into the cloth.

The high collar stood stiff and proud. Silver wolf-head clasps on the shoulders. And on the left chest, the Academy insignia — an open book with a crossed sword, surrounded by stars. The only silver I hadn’t replaced with black.

And the cloak.

Heavy, dark, practically swallowing the light around it. It attached to the coat with the wolf-head clasps and hung down to my calves, flowing like liquid shadow.

I had chosen all black because I was not interested in standing out. A lie, of course. All black made me stand out more.

The standard uniform was almost black too, but mine was different. Darker and sharper. The silver trim caught the light in ways that made people look twice, and the cloak made me look like something out of a nightmare.

But at least I was not wearing bright colors like some peacock trying to attract a mate.

I slipped the coat on and fastened the buttons. The fabric settled across my shoulders like a second skin, heavy but not uncomfortable. I turned to the mirror and adjusted the collar.

The guy in the glass actually looked... proper.

But there was one big problem with this whole outfit.

The tie was missing.

A black silk tie, lying on the dresser where I had left it. Waiting and mocking me. I picked it up and wrapped it around my neck.

”Why is this thing so hard?” I growled, pulling at the silk wrapped around my neck. I had tried three different knots. The first looked like a sad balloon. The second almost choked me. And the third looked like a bird’s nest sitting on my throat.

I tried a fourth time.

It looked worse than the first three. I gave up and left it as it was — crooked, loose, and ugly. Anyone who looked at me would know I had no idea what I was doing. I could bend space itself. I could fold the world.

But a piece of damn fabric was beating me in a fight.

[Host, that’s really pathetic, you know?]

Shut up, Nova.

I looked around the empty room, wishing Lyra was here to fix this mess. But she wasn’t. She had already left early to move my heavy luggage to the new Primus dorm room across the campus, having her own duties to attend to for the day.

Right before she left, though, she had dropped a thick envelope on my desk. ”Lady Sylvia insisted you read this before the ceremony, Young Master,” she had said neutrally before bowing and walking out.

I walked over, picked up the envelope, and broke the big wax seal. The writing inside was neat but pressed so hard into the page that it almost tore through, showing exactly how angry the person writing it had been.

_

To my foolish younger brother,

If you want to live, read the attached speech and memorize it word for word. You are the Primus. You have to give a speech to the new students, the teachers, and the important guests from the Astra Union.

Do NOT make things up as you go. Do NOT say anything stupid. Do NOT start a fight, stare at anyone weirdly, or say anything that could cause trouble. I am already dealing with a mountain of work, and if you add to it, I will make sure your new room becomes your grave. Follow the script.

With sisterly love,

Sylvia von Celestial.

P.S. I know you want to say something stupid. I know you want to be funny or edgy or whatever it is you think will make you look cool. Do not. Just read the words I wrote. Smile. Nod. And for the love of everything holy, do not mention the duel, the Emperor, or the fact that you almost died many times during the exam. We can talk about that later.

P.P.S. I am proud of you. Even if you are an idiot. Do not let it go to your head.

_

Beneath her letter was a typed, boring, three-page speech about honor, hard work, and academy traditions. It was the kind of safe, dull speech that would put everyone to sleep in five minutes. I stared at the script for a long moment.

Then, slowly, I folded the paper, tapped it against my chin, and shoved it deep into my pocket, leaving the terrible, crooked knot of the black tie resting messy on my neck.

”Right,” I muttered. ”I’ll... keep it in mind.”

[The chance of you actually reading that script during the live broadcast is zero percent.]

Hey, I put it in my pocket. That counts as being careful.

I turned away from the glass and walked out of the room, stepping alone into the bright halls of the academy. The bells were already ringing across the yard, signaling the start of the ceremony.

Today was the first day of the rest of my life. Or the first day of the next disaster.

Same thing, really.

_

Meanwhile, the Grand Auditorium of the Academy was a sea of noise...

The scale of the hall was immense, built from white marble and reinforced with high-grade mana stones. Sunlight streamed through massive, stained-glass windows, casting colors over the thousands of people packed into the tiered stands.

The entire freshman batch — two hundred survivors — sat in the front rows, flanked by the senior student body, faculty members, and the distinguished, sharply dressed guests from the Astra Union.

Everywhere you looked, there was a meticulous display of status. Male cadets adjusted their crisp collars, while noble girls smoothed down their tailored uniform skirts, exchanging subtle, calculated glances.

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

”Did you see him? Arthur Vale... the Chosen One looks even more striking in the official uniform.”

”Look over there, that’s Lady Amelia of House Nightshade. Her presence is terrifying...”

In the front rows, the top candidates sat in their assigned seats.

Arthur Vale sat with his back straight, his golden eyes fixed on the stage. He looked calm, but his hands were gripping his knees. He was nervous a little. Amelia Nightshade sat next to him, her posture perfect, her silver-violet eyes scanning the crowd.

Roan Sol-Valis sat a few seats away, slouching in his chair. His silver hair was messy, and he looked bored. He kept glancing at the sealed food tables along the wall. His sister Lyssaria sat next to him, elbowing him to sit up straight. He sighed and straightened his back, but only a little.

Alice Scarlet sat at the end of a row, her arms crossed, her face stuck in a permanent scowl. She hated formal events. Next to her, Riven Ashford sat with his arms also crossed, pretending to be calm, but his fingers kept twitching toward his hidden daggers.

Neither of them spoke to each other, which was probably for the best.

Caster Ironwell sat a few seats behind them, his leg bouncing up and down, his eyes darting toward every sound. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. Beside him, Julia Moss sat stiff and pale, her hands clenched in her lap, her gaze sweeping across the crowd.

She was not looking at the stage. She was looking for Leo.

Princess Cordelia Valerion sat near the front, her strawberry-blonde hair perfectly arranged, her green eyes calm. Her hands were folded tightly in her lap. She looked calm.

Nyra Silverfang sat near the back, her amber eyes darting toward the sealed food tables every few seconds. Her tail twitched under her seat. She was not watching the stage. She was waiting for the ceremony to end so she could eat.

And further back, sitting alone with an empty seat on either side of her, was Elisabeth von Noctis. Her back was straight, her violet eyes cold and distant.

Off to the far side of the grand hall, a massive buffet structure stretched along the wall, lined with silver platters. However, the grand banquet tables were completely sealed under a shimmering mana barrier — it wouldn’t be opened until the ceremony concluded.

The idle chatter abruptly died out as a figure stepped onto the high stage.

Sylvia von Celestial walked toward the central podium.

Outside, she wore a perfect, unreadable face. She looked stunning, her long black hair catching the light, her posture straight and proud. Her Vice President uniform — the black coat with silver trim and a clean white shirt — fit her perfectly.

On her lapel was a polished silver badge showing her rank: Student Council Vice President. The crowd stared in a mixture of awe and intimidation.

”She’s beautiful... but terrifying.”

”The complete opposite of her younger brother, isn’t she? You can actually feel the discipline radiating off her.”

”She’s been standing there for a while now. Why isn’t she speaking?”

”Is she waiting for someone?”

Sylvia ignored the whispers entirely, maintaining her stoic expression. She stopped behind the podium, her ocean-blue eyes swept across the vast crowd. She simply stood there.

Her cold, authoritative gaze alone was enough. Within seconds, a heavy, absolute silence fell over the hundreds of people in the auditorium.

However, while she maintained a perfectly calm, ice-cold facade on the outside... internally, Sylvia was anything but calm.

Aghh! I hate this, she thought, her internal voice screaming in pure rage. I am going to skin that bastard president alive.

As she quietly scanned the front rows of the freshman batch, her eyes searched for Leo. She couldn’t find him anywhere.

First, Seris had slipped away earlier, claiming she needed to clear her head. But Sylvia knew the truth. Seris had taken one look at the mountain of paperwork still sitting on the desk and quietly fled.

She promised to help, but the moment Sylvia turned her back to grab another file, Seris was gone, vanished like a ghost.

Now she was probably hiding in some dark corner of the building, probably eating stolen cake and pretending she didn’t hear the ceremony start.

And now Leo — the absolute bane of her existence — was nowhere to be found.

The Astra Union was watching. And her idiot brother was missing.

Ugh, why am I surrounded by such people? Sylvia cursed internally, her eye twitching just a little.

A sister who runs from paperwork. A brother who can’t show up on time. And a president who left me with all this mess so he could go play hero in some remote mission. I am going to kill all three of them.

She took a slow breath, opened her mouth, and prepared to start the speech.

_

Meanwhile, far away from the grand hall, deep within the winding, confusing hallways of the upper administrative corridors.

Leo found himself stuck in a very awkward position.

He was squeezed inside a narrow gap between a large pillar and the stone wall, trying to keep his whole body out of sight. And right there, trapped in the same tight space, Seris Lunaria was pressed against his chest, her crimson eyes staring straight up into his.

How the hell does this keep happening?! Leo screamed internally, his mind flashing back to the garden disaster weeks ago. Out of thousands of people, in a damn academy, I somehow manage to run into her again?!

The two of them remained frozen right against each other in the suffocating quiet of the wall gap. With her front pressed flat against his chest, Leo could feel the soft brush of her breath against his neck, their faces barely inches apart.

Yet, neither of them made a single move to break the contact.

”...”

”...”

What the hell... how did I even get into this? The sheer weight of the silence pressed down on them as he stared blankly at her deadpan, crimson gaze, completely trapped in the dark corner.