I don't think I have ever been this nervous. The arena holds nine fresh Champions and a crowd that smells like heat and burnt iron after Vyrrak incinerated the pedestal, and every pair of eyes pushes against my back. I wouldn't mind losing if I wasn't the last, but I waited too long.

I should have stepped up earlier.

Fuck my life. I walk toward the nearest barrier with a shaky step. The glow sits steady like a pane of hard light, and the white token rests behind it on a gold pedestal.

"Spare a moment for us," the Vice Principal says. Her mood looks bright now that nine have passed. "What's your name, Apprentice?"

"Errr, Jacob?"

"Doesn't know his own name?" someone shouts from the stands.

"Come on, he's nervous, I'd be nervous too!"

"Yeah, that's why you're not in the arena, dumbass!"

"Look at him, he's shaking like a leaf!"

"Jacob, what's your last name or affiliation?"

"Just Cloud, Jacob Cloud." My whole body feels wired like a bow.

"Alright, give it up for Jacob Cloud!" the Vice Principal says, and she laughs. "He might very well be the one kid who kickstarts the Generation of Legends!"

The bleachers go crazy, and the noise climbs the stone like a living thing.

Ok, King Baalrek, real quick. What's that?

When ten Champions appear at once—and mind you, Cloud, some years there is not even one—strange events take place around the Academy and the world. No one knows why, yet the pattern holds. Champions get interesting Perks. A Generation of Legends pulls bigger threads. Now embarrass yourself.

I stare at the barrier, and I lick my lips because my mouth feels dry.

"Is he any strong?" Orrivane asks. He joins the other eight, who wait near the stage lip. His eyes look heavy, and his posture looks loose, and you can still hear him.

"He's my brother," Kai says. "He's…"

"He's a bastard. A useless one," Sabrina Margrave says. Hate rides her voice.

"He's an interesting character," Princess Iskara says, and the nine turn toward her.

"An interesting character?" Vyrrak looks at her. Mana flashes through his slit pupils. "I don't see it. Good mana density, sure. But he doesn't look like a Champion to me."

"His mana signature is very unique," Asterion says. He tilts his handsome face. "But what do you know about him that we don't, Princess?"

"I don't think he's strong," Princess Iskara says to the other two of the Great Races. "But I have a feeling he might still make it."

"That bug?" Sabrina says. Disgust drags the word. "That bug should make it? He's useless. His older brother barely did it."

Kai looks at her and inhales. He looks back at me and tries to guess what I plan to do.

Boomgar Blackpowder narrows his eyes at me. Zibrek pulls a pair of goggles onto her face and hums.

"What ya seeing, girl?" Boomgar asks Zibrek.

"Shut up, Boomgar," Zibrek says.

"Shut up? Who do ya think you're telling to shut up? Do you know who I am?"

"An idiot," Zibrek says. She adjusts the lenses. "He looks too normal to me. I don't get it. I can't see anything."

"That is because your people never use this." Boomgar knocks on his own head, and the thud sounds shallow. "You must use your brains. Use intuition, Zibrek. Stop overthinking it. Look at how he moves. He is shy, maybe a bit slow, yet look at his eyes."

Every Champion watches my face. My hands tremble. My step looks unsure. Embarrassment clings to me.

My eyes do not match the rest.

"He'll make it," Kaelrik says. "I can see it now, Boomgar."

"What?" Orrivane yawns so hard he almost tips over. "He'll what? Are you sure?"

"Are you a noble, Orrivane?" Kaelrik asks the Void Mage.

"Yeah," Orrivane nods. "Why?"

"Then you can't understand. Jacob clearly is not a noble."

"He's my half‑brother," Kai says. "But yeah, he lived around commoners his whole life."

"A bastard?" Princess Iskara asks.

"I suppose," Kai says with a wince. He hates that word. "To me, he's just my brother. Not a bastard."

"Because your entire lineage is made of bastards," Sabrina says. "You filthy Valemonts."

Vyrrak steps toward her and takes a deep sniff.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Sabrina Margrave. Princess. You conduct yourself like an ugly dog. I would like you to be quiet while we watch Jacob Cloud. I don't condone petty rivalries among us Champions."

People expect Sabrina to fold because the title King hangs off Vyrrak's name. She does not. She goes chin to chin with him.

"You think you can tell me what to do because you're a Dragonkin? Your kind is strong, King Vyrrak. But you don't know how strong I am. No one tells me what to do. No one."

Vyrrak studies her and nods once.

"Very well. We will see how far this attitude brings you, Sabrina Margrave. I wish you good luck."

He steps back to stand with Asterion and Iskara.

"Three Great Races, perhaps ten Champions," he says. "This is going to be interesting."

* * *

"Lyanna," the Headmaster says. He chews on caramelized apples, and the crunch sounds loud in the private box. "That is the kid, right?"

The Headmaster and the Vice Principals watch from an invisible gallery. Runes in the rail bend light away so no one looks up. A breeze moves through the box because the enchantments pull heat away from the staff.

"That's him," Vice Principal Lyanna says.

If Jacob stood here, he'd recognize her at once. She is the woman from the shop, the one who sold him the Skill Crystals, the one he helped with a Mithril‑rank Skill.

"What do you make of him?" the Headmaster asks. "Is he going to make it?"

"Old man, why do you ask me questions you already answered for yourself?"

"Can't we have small talk anymore? Why do the people I promote to Vice Principal always give me grief? What have I ever done to deserve this?"

"You torment your vice principals, Headmaster," Vice Principal John says. "You assign ridiculous Quests to keep us humble. You keep testing loyalty, and you admitted that if any one of us is found betraying the Academy, you would torture them for a thousand years yourself. You also said you would make sure they never die while you do it. And since we know you are not joking, forgive us if we have a little attitude."

"Oh my, so dramatic." The Headmaster shrugs and takes another bite. "It is just good planning. Subordinates get uppity when death does not hang over their heads. Loyalty erodes with time and boredom. Death does not erode. Death waits. Anyway, who wants to bet on the kid?"

A chorus of groans rolls through the box.

"No?" The Headmaster looks offended.

"Headmaster, you never lose," Vice Principal John says.

"I mean, I have lost a few times," the Headmaster says.

"When?"

"Huh… the last time was about eight hundred years ago, I suppose?"

"Lyanna," the Minotaur Vice Principal says, "how good is he? Is he going to make it?"

"He has a neat Skill, for sure," Lyanna says. "And do I think he is going to make it? I do not know. He has a chance."

"Just one Rainbow Skill?" the Headmaster says. He speaks as if he discusses the weather. "That is not going to be enough."

Heads snap toward him.

"Oh, come on. Who here did not guess something at that level?"

"Headmaster," Lyanna hisses. "Why—"

"Who among you is going to do anything?" the Headmaster says. "I know a few of you hide a Rainbow Skill or two. If I see the kid disappear, I will find whoever did it, and I will tear your soul apart. I will torture it. I will make sure you never die, and you will suffer for all eternity. That is, if you get out of the very complex Oaths you carry. Perhaps only John and a few others can do that at the moment. I want the kid to develop naturally and to take his chances, but we should not ignore someone with a Rainbow Skill."

"Headmaster," the Minotaur says, "do you know how many Rainbow Skills stand here this year?"

"Princess Iskara, that King Vyrrak, and Asterion all have one," the Headmaster says. "The Margrave girl has two, hence the arrogance. You may want to monitor whether she plans to become a villain or whether she only hates peasants. If it is the first, bring me a report on the Margrave military. We may have to take care of them."

The Vice Principals and the deans nod. No one argues. This is not an empty threat.

"As for the other Champions, Kai Valemont has one as well. Jacob Cloud's half‑brother. The rest carry no Rainbow Skills. For now."

"That is still a lot. And two for one person? What sort of luck does that girl have?" Lyanna mutters.

"Oh, that is only the Champions. There are kids in the bleachers hiding Rainbow Skills, too. They did not join the selection."

"WHAT?!" Heads turn. They have sensed several strong apprentices who keep a low profile. They did not guess those specific Skills.

"This will be a wild first year," Vice Principal John says. "This will be the Generation of Legends, won't it, Headmaster?"

"I do not believe Jacob Cloud's Rainbow Skill will be enough. You mortals give too much credit to Skills. Tutoring matters more."

"Huh?" Lyanna's eyes widen. "You don't believe he is going to make it."

"Indeed," the Headmaster says. "Would someone care to bet against me?"

Silence lands.

"Oh, come on. I am not going to have you scrub toilets this time. I promise. It will be simple chores."

The Headmaster loves to bet chores against priceless prizes. He offers artifacts or rare Skill Crystals, and he collects weeks of humility. He never loses.

"This time, Orichalcum Skill Crystal from my collection, and I do your chores, your room, and whatever you list for a year. If you lose, you do four months of three different chores I pick. You do not get to know in advance. Who takes the action?"

Silence holds, then one dean steps forward.

"I'll do it," Dean Amenotep says. The room goes still.

Deans usually stand aside during these games. They wait and learn how the upper tier breathes. The Headmaster's quests can kill you if you blink when he smiles.

"Dean of Admissions, Sir Amenotep," the Headmaster says. He lifts an eyebrow. "Where does this faith come from? Because if you think I will go easy on the chores since you are not a vice principal, you are wrong."

"Intuition, Headmaster." Dean Amenotep smiles. His face looks carved, and his eyes look steady.

Vice Principal John narrows his gaze and glances at the Headmaster.

"Alright, you wily old man, I'll take the heat," Vice Principal Lyanna says. Heads turn. "My fate is already tied to the boy. I gave him the Skill Crystals for his Class. I may as well thicken the bond."

The admission shocks a few. People at lower levels fear meddling with the paths of those far stronger or far weaker because of Karmic bonds. But not Vice Principal Lyanna.

"Alright, I'll take that too," Vice Principal John says.

No one else speaks up.

"Bold," the Headmaster says. "The Academy will be very clean for the next four months, I suppose. I will have you three humbled since you dared take the bet. I do not like when you get uppity."

"My quarters and my classroom need a scrub," Vice Principal John says. "I hope your claws are not too delicate, Headmaster. Same for your back. Lots of scrubbing in your future."

"Mortals," the Headmaster grins. Then, he faces the arena. Jacob Cloud stands near the barrier at last.

* * *

I call the Grimoire. I need a way through that light. The barrier must hide weak points. Even if I fall short on raw power, something here must give.

[Grimoire Analysis]

[Monumental Force Barrier (Platinum)]

[A peak‑Platinum defensive Skill.]

[Current flaws: none.]

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