Episode 11: Beware of the Possessed
At the Academy, professors are not allowed to freely divulge a student’s personal information. That’s a strict rule.
At the same time, the Academy must publicly post each student’s performance. That too is a solid rule.
If someone were to ask why professors are told to keep secrets but grades are openly displayed, there’s a good reason.
It’s the result of a consensus among all nations: professors, who can access student info at any time, must never speak of it directly.
In contrast, the public grade postings only reveal the results of formal tests or measurements.
That way, all the nations on the continent can still gain useful information about the talented individuals without probing too deeply.
It’s a sort of unspoken agreement: “We’ll give you this much info, so don’t go snooping further—stay within the lines.”
[Announcement of Freshman Power Measurement Results]
As a result, a notice like this could be posted right in front of the main building the day after the power measurements.
“Let’s see… who got first place among the new students?”
“How many times do I have to tell you that ranking doesn’t mean anything? Who’s going to reveal their full strength in a test like this?”
“You never know. Some people have so much talent, they can’t help but stand out—even when they hold back.”
Interestingly, it wasn’t the freshmen who were most curious—it was the current students.
Understanding the new talent from various nations would help them navigate life at the Academy as seniors.
Plus, once they graduated, they could bring back insights and predictions to their own countries. That kind of intel was job security in itself.
“I’m betting the top spot goes to those two.”
“You mean Sir Phoenix’s and Master Sparrow’s children?”
“Not ‘children.’ Don’t call our juniors that. Try again—Flam junior. Portus junior.”
But this idle chatter among the upperclassmen didn’t last long.
“…What the heck?”
And no wonder—because the name at the very top of the board was completely unexpected.
“Rel Karhan? Who’s that?”
“Never heard of a house named Karhan. Which kingdom is he from?”
Sure, most people hold back during these tests, but still—there’s such a thing as a pride of a talent.
If someone ranked first, it means they’re truly exceptional. And yet, neither the name “Rel” nor “Karhan” rang any bells.
Then one male student suddenly exclaimed, “Wait a minute!” and started thinking hard.
“I remember now. A new Prime Minister was just elected in the southern continent’s republic. His name was Vanplas Karhan.”
“You mean this student is related to the Prime Minister?”
“Honestly, with the way this is going, I bet he’s the guy’s son…”
What was going on with this new freshman class? Each newcomer was more high-profile than the last—it was becoming overwhelming.
It started with the Imperial Prince, followed by the top two elemental prodigies, the twin princesses of the Winter Principality, and now someone likely related to the Prime Minister of the Southern Republic.
All upperclassmen at the Academy are talented individuals. Most of them hail from noble or influential families across the continent.
The connections they make here will become a major asset later on. Even if a fellow student ends up in a rival country, having a communication channel could prove invaluable.
So they couldn’t afford to treat anyone lightly—especially not when the incoming class looked like this.
Naturally, two main thoughts began to form in the minds of the upperclassmen:
One: “Let’s treat them a little nicer.”
Two: “Let’s make the senior-junior hierarchy very clear.”
The first is obvious. But the second? That came from a subtle fear—these juniors were too powerful. If they didn’t establish a pecking order early, they might get steamrolled. Better to clarify relationships now than regret it later.
“So, who’s under him?”
“There they are. Flam Phoenix and Portus Sparrow. Tied for second place.”
“Tied? That’s not good.”
“Why not?”
“There’s no clear winner. You know what that means, right? They’ll definitely want a rematch after that showdown at the front gate.”
A sharp observation. Abel, listening nearby, nodded in agreement.
Honestly, it would’ve been better if one of them had come out clearly on top in the power test.
Rivalries don’t escalate just because one side is weaker—no, it’s when they’re neck and neck that things really start heating up.
[3rd Place: Abel Rotensilt]
As expected. Blowing up the testing chamber with the device had probably played a big role.
He was supposed to focus his power solely on the measurement device, but he’d gotten too caught up in “holding back” and lost the finesse.
That was entirely his fault.
He didn’t make it to first, which was disappointing—but he did gain something valuable.
He learned what needed fixing. Precision control. Focused output.
Without coming to the Academy, it might’ve taken him much longer to realize that.
No wonder “school,” “academy,” or “training center” is a staple in stories about the gifted. Abel nodded thoughtfully and looked further down the list.
‘Caligo, the Imperial Prince, is slightly above the mid-rankings.’
The moment he saw it, Abel could tell—Caligo was holding back.
From their brief encounter, he knew the prince was stronger than he let on.
He might not be top-tier, but he definitely belonged in the upper rankings.
Yet he hadn’t even shown half of his power. That was disappointing—but Abel understood.
Everyone had their own reasons. Once the school year really started, he wouldn’t be able to hide it for long anyway.
Next, Abel looked for Seria’s name.
It wasn’t near the top. Not even in the middle.
His gaze slowly dropped down the list…
And when he finally spotted her name near the very bottom, Abel let out a quiet sigh.
He had hoped—deep down—that the King had been wrong.
In Abel’s eyes, Seria was a genuinely good person.
There was something about her bright personality that lifted the mood of everyone around her.
Even if she didn’t realize it, she had a truly positive influence on people.
But influence is one thing, and ability is another. To perform that poorly in the power measurement test means either she has low talent in handling her ability, or the output of her ability is absurdly weak.
She had called herself a firefly the other day, and it turned out not to be humility—but a cold, realistic self-assessment. If she doesn’t improve during the semester, it’s safe to say she’ll remain at the bottom.
‘This won’t do. I’ll have to ask Seria to join me in special training.’
They were from the same kingdom, and the king had even asked Abel to look after her. But more than that, she was one of the few people he could call an acquaintance.
If he could help, he should. He wasn’t selfless to the point of self-sacrifice, but he also wasn’t desperate or corrupt enough to feel joy at someone else’s despair and use their back as a stepping stone.
If they could reach greater heights together, that would be all the more rewarding.
That said, there were a few minor problems.
‘I’ve never taught anyone before. And unlike me, Seria is a fire-type ability user.’
Rolling around until his body broke might work for him, but it would be utterly useless for Seria.
Swinging a sword a hundred thousand times, doing physical training all day—none of it would help unless her ability directly relied on physical prowess.
“Abel Rotensilt?”
While Abel was deeply thinking about how to help Seria in a way that benefits them both, a voice called out from behind, stopping him in his tracks.
At first, he thought it might be a professor—but no. It was another student. Judging from their demeanor, not a fellow freshman, but an upperclassman.
“Can we talk for a moment with you, Abel?”
Abel’s mind began working rapidly.
The results of the power measurement had just been posted. Now seniors were suddenly calling for him. A few days ago, he’d made a bit of a scene with the upperclassmen.
In these kinds of academy stories, it was a staple that seniors liked to assert dominance.
And most importantly—this was a world of ability users.
“Yes, of course.”
He quietly followed them. When they reached the middle of the outdoor training grounds, several students were already there, staring at Abel.
“We saw the results. You placed third, huh?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Impressive. Our junior Abel must be quite a capable ability user.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“With that in mind, we’d like to give you a little advice. Are you ready to listen?”
Just for a moment, Abel’s eyes gleamed sharply—but unfortunately, none of the upperclassmen present noticed.
***
In the eastern part of the continent sat the Kingdom of Ascal. Right beside it was the Kingdom of Ragem.
Like most neighboring nations, relations were never exactly friendly. Especially when territory and population were similar, and there was a long history of conflict—such countries often ended up as bitter rivals.
“That freshman Abel, he’s from the Ascal Kingdom.”
So when people heard that he had acted out against upperclassmen, many of the students simply nodded.
Rather than just disrespecting seniors, it felt like some national sentiment was involved. They figured a light warning would be enough to make him reflect and change.
But not everyone stayed quiet.
The ones who took offense were from the Ragem Kingdom.
To them, staying silent would be disgraceful—not just as upperclassmen, but as Ragem nationals.
Even if Abel’s outburst had been ignorant rather than malicious, it was their duty to give a stern warning. And if that didn’t work, then they had to teach him what It meant to be a senior, what this academy was for, and what kind of connections were built here.
“Freshmen should act like freshmen. Seniors should act like seniors. Everyone has their place, and good things come from respecting that order.”
There were always at least one or two like him.
The type who thought they were the best, only to be thrown into the real world of elite ability users and realize they were just frogs in a well.
The kind of juniors who got drunk on the fact they’d made it into the academy, deluding themselves into thinking they were something extraordinary.
Right now, Abel looked like that type to them.
He had clear talent. He’d gotten excellent results in the power measurement test.
No wonder he didn’t see any senior as worth respecting.
If left alone, he’d cause even bigger trouble later. He’d act even more rudely.
Stopping that before it happened was, in their minds, the clear duty of a senior.
“You might be thinking this: ‘Do these guys even have the right to say this to me?’ If you’re curious, we can settle it in a spar. After all, this continent’s academy allows students to duel anytime.”
A third-year student, Haim Warhess of the Ragem Kingdom.
A top-ranked student overall in the academy.
His ability focused on physical enhancement, and combined with his naturally massive frame, he exuded an overwhelming presence.
He was at least a full head taller than Abel. Haim’s arms were thicker than Abel’s thighs.
Just standing in front of him made people shrink back. Everyone expected Abel to do the same.
“Sounds good.”
What they had failed to realize… was that Abel was far more unhinged than they could imagine.
He was a monster, one who crossed his limits on the basis of belief born from delusion.
“Let’s duel, senior.”
That smile on Abel’s face—it might have been pure joy. Or perhaps pure madness.
But the moment they saw it, the upperclassmen finally realized something was terribly wrong.