NOVEL NEXT 8
Basamiel Academy, Rustavaran
The current headmaster of the academy was a knight of the kingdom. That, in itself, carried a significant meaning.
Basamiel Academy consisted of six faculties. The most popular among them were, of course, the Knight Faculty and the Magic Faculty, which, thanks to their prestige, produced a variety of talented individuals. Following those two, the next most favored faculty was the Arts Faculty. It was particularly beloved by the children of affluent and socially influential families. Unlike the knights, who had to sweat through rigorous training, or the mages, who had to endure grueling study sessions, students in the Arts Faculty could maintain a certain level of elegance while still benefiting from the prestige of Basamiel Academy. For them, it was the perfect combination.
Next in line was the Administration Faculty. It was the preferred choice for wealthy commoners who had been fortunate enough to gain admission to Basamiel. Graduates from this faculty often found employment in the kingdom’s administrative sector or were directly placed into their family businesses, making it a highly practical option.
At the bottom of the popularity ranking were the Alchemy Faculty and the Spirit Faculty, constantly competing for the last spot. Both faculties demanded extensive academic knowledge, attracting mostly the children of noble families who wanted to flaunt their intellect or cultivate an air of superiority. However, there were a few who had chosen Basamiel Academy solely out of a genuine passion for alchemy or spirit magic.
Traditionally, the academy’s headmasters were selected from among the distinguished scholars of various fields. The previous headmaster, somewhat unusually, had been a spiritist well-versed in spirit magic. Upon his appointment, he actively devised a variety of curriculums utilizing the forests surrounding Basamiel Academy. He firmly believed that students needed to be raised in harmony with nature. It was said that this approach had provoked considerable opposition from numerous noble parents.
The current headmaster, however, was none other than the renowned Declaire Faster—a name every aspiring knight had heard at least once. After becoming a knight, she had traversed countless battlefields, never once backing down from a fight. She was the only human capable of imbuing her sword with even the faintest trace of mana. As a human, she had reached the absolute pinnacle of swordsmanship attainable by mortal means. But in the end, she had never achieved the rank of Sword Master. The difference between a Sword Master and an exceptionally skilled swordsman was simply insurmountable. Declaire had dedicated her entire life to bridging that gap. The proof of her relentless struggle lay beneath the dress she now wore—her body undoubtedly covered in countless scars.
“Let us begin Basamiel Academy’s special entrance ceremony.”
Sweeping back her gray hair, Declaire gestured toward someone standing at the back of the banquet hall. At her signal, the man who had been waiting there lifted his head.
As he stepped forward, the students seated in the orchestra pit stopped playing. He positioned himself between the headmaster and the incoming students in the center of the hall.
With a sweep of his palm, the marble tiles on the floor began shifting one by one, assembling themselves into a circular structure. As the formation took shape, a stone altar emerged at its center, and atop it rested a gleaming set of scales.
The scales, as if freshly forged from molten gold, settled onto the altar, and from its base, a stream of clear water began to trickle down, flowing into the circular basin below.
It was a marble fountain, with a central altar piece from which pristine water slowly cascaded, forming a strikingly beautiful pattern.
Like the others, Adrian couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it was.
“This is Basamiel’s Fountain,” Declaire said, her lips curling into a faint smile as she took in the eager curiosity on the students’ faces. The upperclassmen who had already undergone this ritual watched the newcomers with the same amused expressions.
From either side of the banquet hall, waiting attendants stepped forward, distributing something to the new students. Taken aback, the students each received one of the mysterious objects.
As soon as Adrian received his, he carefully examined what was now in the palm of his hand.
It was an unimpressive stone. Its rough, uneven surface lacked any luster, looking no different from the ordinary pebbles scattered along the streets. Adrian attempted to channel mana into it, but nothing happened. There was no trace of magic in it whatsoever.
“You all must be thinking it’s just a regular rock, right?”
Declaire plucked a feather from the ornament in her hair. The delicate feather fluttered lightly between her index finger and thumb.
“Watch this.”
She carefully placed the feather onto one side of the scales. The weightless feather rested there without causing the scales to shift in the slightest. Naturally, it had no effect. Declaire then gestured to the student standing at the very front, asking for permission. The student hesitated before reluctantly handing over the stone they had received.
Holding the stone near her lips, Declaire let out a soft breath—Hoo.
The moment her breath touched the stone, it faintly trembled, then emitted a soft glow. The light shimmered for a brief moment before gradually fading away.
She turned the now-dimmed stone toward the new students, revealing something astonishing—where the glow had passed, elegant script now adorned the surface, spelling out Declaire Faster.
She then placed the stone onto the opposite side of the scales, across from where she had set the feather. Naturally, the stone should have been heavier than the feather.
Yet, the side holding the stone slowly began to rise.
It was a movement that defied the laws of nature. The new students were utterly shocked. Meanwhile, the upperclassmen, who had already experienced this ceremony before, simply chuckled in quiet amusement.
“You will now be judged by Basamiel for the deeds—both good and evil—you have committed thus far. However, the scales do not react to minor actions. This process evaluates the entirety of one’s life, and only truly significant acts of virtue or wrongdoing can shift the balance.”
Declaire’s sharp gaze swept across the new students.
“You are all individuals who will live and contribute to the kingdom of Rustavaran. Given the high standards required for admission to this academy, it is expected that you will one day play crucial roles in the kingdom’s future. While Basamiel Academy prioritizes the transmission of knowledge, we also place great importance on the character of those who receive it.”
She lifted the stone from the scales.
“This mineral was discovered centuries ago in a Rustavaran mine. Scholars named it The Eye That Sees Through All. Over the years, professors from the Magic Faculty, Spirit Faculty, and Alchemy Faculty have all attempted to decipher the principles behind its shifting weight, yet none have succeeded.”
She smiled faintly.
“However, one thing is certain—the truth it reveals is absolute. Every person whose stone was heavier than a feather has caused immense harm to the Rustavaran Kingdom. Basamiel Academy does not teach those who would use its treasured knowledge to bring ruin. Such individuals, regardless of status, will not be allowed to progress to the next year and will instead be sent home.”
At these words, murmurs of anxiety spread through the gathered students. Declaire raised her palm, signaling them to calm down.
“But don’t worry,” she reassured them. “In the academy’s centuries-long history, only a handful of students have ever received a stone heavier than a feather. And even those cases are more legend than reality.”
Despite her reassurance, the new students anxiously stared down at the stones in their hands—The Eye That Sees Through All—their faces pale with unease.
Adrian was no exception.
This is insane. It’d be hilarious if someone got expelled on the very first day.
He began sifting through his past, reflecting on any “wrongdoings” he might have committed.
As the nervous chatter of the students continued, the man who had previously conjured the fountain leaned toward Declaire and spoke.
“Headmaster… you should probably mention that part as well.”
Declaire Faster let out a sigh, her expression betraying her loss of enthusiasm.
“Well, fine. We’re not judging you immediately. Basamiel Academy grants a one-year grace period to ensure that no one is unfairly condemned. During this year, you have the chance to reduce whatever accumulation of wrongdoing you may have built up—whether knowingly or unknowingly.”
Her lips curled into a smirk, a hint of mockery in her voice.
“But really, how much can a person change in just one year?”
Her laughter deepened the wrinkles around her sharp eyes. With a casual motion, she handed the borrowed stone back to the student. Soon after, all the freshmen followed suit, blowing their breath onto their own stones.
Adrian held his breath as he watched the name appear on his stone. His name was an alias. He had no idea how deeply The Eye That Sees Through All could see through things, but he desperately hoped it wouldn’t reveal his real name.
Slowly, he opened one eye.
Adrian Heather.
His alias shone brightly on the surface of the stone.
Thank god.
But at that moment—
“Ugh.”
Adrian’s expression stiffened.
He rarely felt the weight of anything. With a dragon’s body that far exceeded human physical limits, it was almost unheard of for him to perceive something as heavy. Yet the stone in his hand weighed him down so much that it was overwhelming. Forget the feather—he was convinced that even if the entire fountain were placed on the scales, his stone would still be heavier.
“One by one, step forward and place The Eye That Sees Through All into the fountain. For the next year, you will live at Basamiel Academy with this stone in mind.”
Declaire raised a glass of water that someone had handed her, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips.
“One year from today, when the weight of your lives is measured once more, may your stones be no heavier than a feather.”
Adrian swallowed hard. The stone in his grip was growing heavier by the second.
The new students began forming a line, each stepping up to the fountain and dropping their stones into its pristine waters. As soon as the unimpressive pebbles touched the water, they transformed, shimmering like gemstones before gently sinking to the bottom in elegant arcs.
Near the back of the line, it was finally Mikhail and Adrian’s turn.
Adrian stole a glance at the stone in Mikhail’s hand. It looked completely ordinary—light as ever. Without hesitation, Mikhail casually tossed his into the fountain. Just like the others, it gleamed the moment it met the water before drifting slowly downward.
Then it was Adrian’s turn.
Suppressing the overwhelming weight of the stone, he stretched out both hands over the fountain. He made sure to release it as close to the water’s surface as possible, trying to minimize any unnecessary impact.
The sound of his stone hitting the water echoed sharply in his ears. It might have been his imagination, but to him, it felt unbearably loud. Unlike the other stones that had floated down gently, his plunged straight down in a perfect vertical drop.
He followed it with his eyes, watching it sink rapidly. But when it reached the bottom, it blended in with the countless other stones, making it impossible to tell which one was his.
For a moment, Adrian hesitated, his feet unwilling to move. But finally, he forced himself to step aside, making way for the next student.
Once every freshman had placed their stones into the fountain, the mage who had initially conjured it gave Declaire a subtle nod before waving his hand through the air.
Just as it had formed, the fountain now unraveled in reverse, steadily collapsing into nothingness.
As it disappeared from the banquet hall, Adrian closed his eyes, trying to trace the movement of mana—attempting to sense where it was flowing.
Once the ritual was complete, Declaire redirected the freshmen’s attention, pulling them away from their fascination with the magic they had just witnessed.
“As you all know, Basamiel Academy consists of six faculties. Some of you may already have a specific faculty in mind, but as first-year students, I encourage you to take this year to explore and find where you truly belong. You are all already outstanding knights.”
The moment the word knights left her lips, the students from the Knight Faculty—easily identifiable among the upperclassmen—stomped their feet in unison. Boom! A thunderous sound echoed throughout the banquet hall, their expressions brimming with confidence.
“And exceptional mages.”
At the mention of mages, the upperclassmen from the Magic Faculty raised their index fingers high into the air, releasing small sparks of light that flared brilliantly above them. The new students glanced from side to side, watching the dazzling display with awe.
“Or perhaps gifted artists.”
The musicians seated in the orchestra pit, along with students from the Arts Faculty, produced a harmonious melody in perfect pitch. The enchanting sound filled the hall, prompting some freshmen to instinctively close their eyes and take in the beauty of the moment.
“Or skilled diplomats.”
At the mention of diplomats, an enthusiastic “WAAAH!!” erupted from the students in the Administration Faculty. Some stomped their feet just as the knights had done, boldly showcasing their outgoing and charismatic nature.
“…And, of course, you have the potential to become excellent alchemists and spiritists.”
Declaire combined the last two faculties into a single statement, seemingly acknowledging their smaller numbers. The students from the Alchemy and Spirit Faculties responded by placing their fingers to their lips and whistling in sync. At their signal, a crisp breeze swept through the banquet hall, momentarily cooling the overheated space.
“And with that, I wish you all the most rewarding year of your lives.”
With those words, the entrance ceremony officially came to an end.
A thunderous round of applause erupted from every corner of the hall as upperclassmen cheered and clapped, welcoming the freshmen with overwhelming enthusiasm. The new students, standing at the center of it all, felt a surge of emotion at the intense display of support.
Amid the deafening cheers, Adrian’s thoughts drifted elsewhere.
It wasn’t that he was reflecting on his past life or drowning in regret over his actions.
No—his real concern was far more immediate.
This is ridiculous. What the hell am I supposed to do to be ‘good’ in a place this small?