Chronicles of the Ancient Star

Professor Fuchs continued, "Once a Magian bonds with a staff, they achieve a perfect union. A perfect union occurs when the Magian's mana and the staff's core resonate as one, merging them into a single, unified source. To put it simply, the staves are now dormant inside your mana core."

That statement caught everyone off guard.

"Inside… us?" a student echoed.

The professor nodded. "You will need to summon them. How? That is for you to figure out since it's different for each Magian."

A moment of silence followed. Then—a burst of light flared from the students. The first emergence came from Aidan.

A warm, golden glow surrounded him, a contrast to his fiery demeanor. But just as people began to wonder about the gentleness of his mana, the warmth shifted—erupting into searing red flames.

The fire twisted and condensed, until finally—a staff materialized in his grasp.

Aidan's staff was of dark crimson, its shape reminiscent of a roaring fire. The top curled slightly, holding a red orb, resembling a flickering flame, and along the shaft were faint, ember-like patterns that pulsed with heat.

The crowd murmured in admiration.

Then, a second burst of light. This time, it was from the girl who had thrown up earlier.

Her light was sharp, quick, and fleeting—a brief flash of yellow before her staff appeared in her grasp.

Hers was simpler than Aidan's, but no less eye-catching. It has a slender and unmistakable design of a rod—featuring intricate engravings along its shaft. A crackling silver gem at the top that emits sparks glowed faintly, pulsing as if analyzing its new owner.

The ceremony gained momentum.

One by one, students began summoning their staves, though some struggled more than others. Some required intense concentration, while others found theirs appearing almost naturally.

Lucian's staff finally manifested—a plain, chalk-white staff, almost eerily plain and simple.

Egbert's was a bit peculiar—a sharp blade-like staff, carrying the presence of a weapon.

As the number of summoned staves grew, attention naturally drifted back to Austin.

But he… Had nothing. He stood there, expression unreadable, hands empty.

And as realization dawned, whispers spread once more.

"Wait, he still hasn't summoned his?"

"Is that normal?"

"I thought he'd be one of the first to succeed…"

Doubt slowly crept into the students' eyes.

For the first time since the entrance exams, Austin's capabilities were being questioned.

A student hesitated before raising their hand. "Professor… is it possible for someone to not receive any staff during the ceremony?"

The question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been.

The professor's gaze swept over the expectant faces before he nodded. "Yes. It is possible."

Murmurs spread among the students.

A second student followed up, "Then… has it happened this year?" he asked whule obviously staring at Austin.

The professor exhaled. "Yes. There was one student who did not resonate with a staff."

That was all he said, but the students didn't need more than that. Their eyes instinctively darted toward Austin.

Whispers started again, but this time they were quieter—uncertain.

The professor sighed. "Before you make any assumptions, let me make one thing clear." He paused, ensuring every student was listening. "Not receiving a staff does not mean one is unworthy."

Some of the freshmen looked skeptical.

The professor continued, voice unwavering, "A staff is not a mere tool—it is an extension of the wielder. If no staff resonated with someone, it is not necessarily a rejection. Perhaps… it is because that person deserves something much, much greater."

The words were meant to be reassuring, yet the freshmen's expressions showed lingering doubts.

Austin, however, didn't react. He simply stood there, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.

The professor, sensing that nothing he said could fully shift the students' perceptions, decided to move forward.

"Now then," he announced, "it's time to introduce you to the four Archons of the Academy."

At his cue, four figures stepped forward from the gathered upperclassmen.

Each carried a commanding presence, standing tall as they faced the freshmen.

"These students are the leaders of our Academy's four Archeons—Valdoris, Solvian, Erynior, and Cressarion," the professor stated. "They will also be the ones overseeing the Mystical Welcoming Battle."

The freshmen exchanged glances.

"A battle? Already?"

Some were excited, while others grew uneasy.

"The Mystical Welcoming Battle is a tradition," the professor continued. "Each of these Archons will accept duel challenges from any freshmen willing to test their strength."

Austin frowned slightly. This… didn't seem like a fair fight.

He didn't know much about these so-called Archons, but if they were the heads of the four factions, they had to be far beyond the level of first-years. A battle like this wasn't a test—it was a demonstration. A way to remind the freshmen of the power gap between them and the upperclassmen.l.

But in the end, it wasn't his concern. He had already decided to stay out of attention from now on. So he silently promised himself—he wouldn't get involved.

Professor Fuchs continued, "In the Magian Academy, we do not simply teach you the Mystical Arts, theories, and combat. We guide you toward something greater—a future beyond these walls. That is why we have the Archeons."

Some students whispered among themselves, but the professor continued without pause.

"The four Archeons are one of the pillars of the Academy, each leading their members toward a unified goal—not just as students, but as Magians." His voice lost its carefree tone and was replaced by a carried weight, making it clear this was more than just an extracurricular activity.

He clasped his hands behind his back, scanning the students with a knowing smirk.

"How do you join?" Professor Scharf repeated the question with a smirk. "You don't."

A few students exchanged confused glances as he continued.

"The Archeons are not something you simply apply for. The Academy itself will decide where you belong—based on your abilities, values, and potential. Once you reach your second year, your performance and growth will determine which family you belong."

"""..."""

His gaze sharpened. "It is not a matter of choice. It is a matter of who you are."

"""..."""

With that, he stepped back letting the Archons move forward to introduce themselves. "More details will be provided during the Archeon Introduction Ceremony in your second year."

A tall young man stepped forward, his brown hair slightly tousled as if caught in a perpetual breeze. His hazel-green eyes glimmered with amusement as he scan the of freshmen before settling into a confident, relaxed stance. "My name is Caelum Veridane, Third-Year and the Archon of Cressarion Archeon."

"That's Caelum Veridane."

"The third-year's top air elementalist."

"The youngest Archon in Cressarion's history."

But before Caelum could continue, a sharp voice cut through the air.

"I, Aidan von Brandt, challenge you!"

All eyes turned toward the source.

Aidan stood at the front of the freshmen, arms crossed, chin raised in defiance. His sharp amber eyes locked onto Caelum without hesitation.

A wave of murmurs spread through the crowd.

"Already?" someone whispered.

"Of course it's him…" another muttered.

Caelum arched a brow, more amused than surprised. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You freshmen really don't waste time, huh?"

Aidan smirked. "What's the point of waiting? If the Archons lead this Academy, then we should know if they're worthy."

The murmurs intensified.

Caelum chuckled and extended a hand forward, fingers curling slightly in a beckoning motion. "Alright then. I accept."

Professor Fuchs, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "Very well. Since you're so eager, this will be an official battle." His sharp gaze swept over the crowd. "Watch closely."

The Professor, and the other three Archons along with everyone else stepped back, giving space for the two as the duel was about to begin.

The air grew tense, mana humming in anticipation.

Aidan grinned, his staff materializing in his hand. "Let's see if you're worth following."

Reinhardt simply smiled, shifting his stance. "Let's see if you're worth challenging."

Caelum exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "You're bold, Aidan." His staff materialized.

Caelum's staff was a sleek, silver-white shaft engraved with swirling air patterns. At its top, a floating, translucent crystal shaped like a spiraling gust of wind pulsed with a soft cyan glow. Wisps of air curled around it with every movement.

Aidan smirked.

"This duel will end when one participant is incapacitated or yields by dematerializing their staff. Let the Mystical Welcoming Battle begin!"

The arena shifted.

With a flick of Aidan's staff, flames erupted around his feet. Blazing red mana surged from his core, radiating heat that rippled through the air.

Caelum, in contrast, remained still. His aura was subtle—calm. Yet, in that serenity, there was a tension. Then—they moved.

Aidan struck first. "Ignis incendium!"

A torrent of fire roared toward Caelum. The heat distorted the air, the flames spiraling forward like a furious serpent.

But Caelum barely blinked.

"Ventus excisio." A single step back. A flick of his staff.

Wind howled. A powerful gust erupted from Caelum's body, a focused stream of air pressure that met Aidan's flames head-on. The fire didn't just disperse—it was devoured. The wind consumed the oxygen fueling the blaze, leaving only embers in its wake.

The crowd gasped.

Aidan gritted his teeth. "Tch—"

Caelum lifted his free hand, fingers spread. "Venti surgite!"

A cyclone exploded from beneath Aidan's feet.

He barely managed to brace himself before he was launched into the air, spiraling within the vortex. The wind was razor-sharp, slicing at his uniform, tugging at his limbs.

But Aidan wasn't one to back down.

Through the howling winds, his voice rang out, "Flammae furoris!"

Fire erupted from his body, forming an explosive wave that shattered the cyclone, sending embers raining down like a meteor shower.

He landed in a crouch, breathless but grinning.

Caelum raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"You lasted longer than I expected," he admitted.

Aidan spat to the side. "I'm just getting started."

Caelum's expression shifted. He raised his palm, and the air stilled. Then— "Aether dominus venti... ad me."

A hush fell over the arena. The wind vanished. For a heartbeat, there was only silence. Then—a deafening roar. The air collapsed inward before exploding outward in a shockwave.

Aidan's flames flickered—then died.

His breath caught.

The wind had become a vacuum.

He couldn't breathe.

His fire—extinguished.

Before he could react, Caelum was already in front of him.

With a swift movement, he raised his free hand—a blade of compressed wind forming at his fingertips. Then, he stopped.

"Yield," Caelum said, his voice cutting through the vacuumed space as if the absence of air did not apply to him.

Aidan growled. The flames around him had already vanished. His power—completely countered.

With a clenched jaw, Aidan lowered his head after noticing that Caelum wasn't actually using his staff the whole time. He then reluctantly dematerialized his staff.

Aidan couldn't fight without air.

A heavy moment of stillness passed before the professor's voice broke through the tension. "And the winner for this match is… Archon Caelum!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and gasps.

Caelum stepped back, releasing the air's hold.

Aidan gasped, air flooding back into his lungs.

As he stood up, Caelum offered a hand. "You did well."

Aidan scowled—then smirked, slapping Caelum's hand away before standing on his own. "Next time, I'm winning."

Caelum chuckled. "I'll be waiting."