Mist Empire’s Rise: Fake Noble to Fog Queen

The "peacocks" filed into the cathedral one after another; before long more than half the benches were filled.

"It's almost time. We're just waiting on the Ten Great Academies, right?"

"They're always like this—drag their feet till the last minute so everyone has to wait on them."

"Hey? Up there— is that them?"

"They're here? Why so early this year?"

Heads turned toward the windows.

Bright sunlight poured through the tall mullioned panes. Against the blue sky a flock of strange orange‑red creatures drifted toward Siria Magic Academy.

"Those are the Ten Great Academies' mounts—the Hummingbird Hawkmoths!" someone shouted.

The Hummingbird Hawkmoth, a mid‑level magic beast: technically a moth, though it looked more like a butterfly. It had a long tubular proboscis and two antennae swollen at the tips. Its plush gray‑brown wings bore black longitudinal stripes; the rear half burned orange‑red. When the wings beat, they looked like living fire and under ultraviolet light gave off a faint golden sheen.

Highly ornamental and explosively fertile, it could lay two clutches a year, each with over a hundred larvae.

Docile by nature and fond of the Lala Vine's buds and nectar, it was ideal for domestication.

Over a century ago the Ten Great Academies cooperated to cast a heaven‑and‑earth net in the Magic Beast Mountains, sweeping up every Hummingbird Hawkmoth—and every egg. Since then the species had been their exclusive flying mount. Annual breeding was tightly controlled; not a single egg leaked out.

But a century of human breeding had drastically shortened their lifespan and crippled their stamina: a single flight now lasted only two hours—about two hundred kilometers—and after three or four such trips they died of exhaustion.

Over a hundred Hummingbird Hawkmoths settled onto the Academy square, dense as a thick gray velvet carpet.

Students of the Ten Great Academies leapt down from the moths' backs. Their black robes were brocaded with gold and silver; fitted academy uniforms showed beneath; custom metal magic wands rested in gloved hands. Heads high, they strode toward the cathedral.

Even the least among them was the child of a count. Every movement displayed rigid noble deportment.

In Luo Wei's previous life each one could have been cast as an overbearing CEO in a drama.

Walking through another school's campus, they carried themselves as if it were their own domain—an aura of home‑field dominance radiating from every seam.

Students already seated fell silent. The Ten Great Academies' reputation alone stirred inferiority.

A few with stronger nerves merely sneered at those still wearing ornate uniforms under their robes.

"That bunch is as hateful as ever!" Theodore bristled. "Just wait till I'm on the field—I'll smear dung all over their faces!"

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Nearby students: …

They didn't know whether to be more shocked he'd grab dung—or smear it on nobles.

Hol murmured, "Classic Theodore."

"I heard last year he deliberately ate a bucket of stink beans before the match, then let out one long silent fart and knocked all his opponents cold."

Luo Wei: "A whole bucket… Theodore can really eat."

Jack couldn't help cutting in. "Isn't the point that he knocked them out with a fart?"

"Nope." Hol's sunny grin beamed. "You think there's something wrong with knocking out opponents?"

"N‑No, not at all!" Cold prickles ran down Jack's neck; he shook his head like a rattle.

He'd almost forgotten—this teammate was the Master Poisoner famed for stench.

Gladys joined in. "Theodore—his farts only knock out opponents?"

She often gassed herself; the idea he could control range and direction fascinated her.

Hol shook his head. "Of course not—he knocked out his four teammates too. But since he won it for them, no one complained."

Gladys sighed. "Theodore—knock out teammates. Bad."

Good thing she wasn't in his grade; otherwise she'd have gone down too.

While the four chattered, Axina's pressure dropped lower and lower.

Intolerable!

Every other word dung or fart—vulgar, crude, base, revolting!

If not for the tournament she would never, ever, ever sit with them. Sharing a bench— a stain upon her immaculate clothes!

Outside, the noble students had already entered in a long line, eyes straight ahead, moving toward the Ten Great Academies' seating.

They had not yet settled when another stir rose.

At the back, exclamations again. Luo Wei and the rest turned their gaze skyward.

Clear sky. No flying mounts.

She lowered her eyes—then saw five elegant youths approaching the cathedral on foot.

They too wore black magic robes, but only simple silver embroidery traced them; underneath were white high‑collared uniforms.

Less ornate than the Ten Great Academies' students—yet their presence outshone them.

If one had to put the difference into words:

The Ten Great Academies' students were so over‑adorned their own brilliance was smothered. The Divine College's students were flawless jade, radiance inherent.

All five possessed strikingly handsome faces and perfectly proportioned builds—like angels stepped from an oil painting; so pure that a lingering look felt like desecration.

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Of course, not everyone appreciated them.

"Why are those Divine College guys so pale—did they powder themselves?" Theodore muttered. "Those smiling eyes—never good. Bet their guts are full of bad water."

"Probably plan to seduce us with their looks. Hmph. Crafty dogs—I won't fall for it!"

Hessel glanced over, too many flaws to address.

"Divine College students are worth watching," Laura agreed. Then she frowned. "Wait—why only five?"

"Perfectly normal," Hessel said. "People with light element affinity are rare. I doubt they have even ten total."

Theodore and Laura exchanged a look; a spark lit their eyes.

Laura asked, "I heard Prince Feiru—Prince Alfried's godson—came back to compete. He enrolled last year. So they're only entering the Junior Division?"

"Mm." Hessel nodded. "You didn't know?"

"No one told us. Where'd you hear it?" Laura asked.

Hessel paused, looked at her and Theodore, and lowered his voice. "Senior Noel told me."

"Senior Noel—as in Sebastian Noel?" Theodore asked.

"Yes."

He turned back again, withdrawing into cold distance.

Nearby, Luo Wei and Hol were also talking about the Divine College's numbers.

"Only five—so they'll be in our Junior Division," Hol said, smile fading. Clearly not good news.

The Divine College had sent a single team. To defend the Church's honor they would fight tooth and nail for first.

In that case they would play their trump card: light magic.

Hol would not be forced into a true form by light, but with dark element affinity his magic signature might register as abnormal.

Luo Wei felt it too. As a Blessed One of a Dark Deity with dark element affinity, she was the most exposed of them all.

No idea whether the lead garment and sunglasses would work. If they didn't, she would have to avoid them—settle for second place.

…
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