The Heavenly Hero Returns

Chapter 10: The Entrance Ceremony

The grand hall of the academy was filled with the best and brightest of noble and knightly lineage, the elite class gathered in reserved seats near the front, while the rest of the first-year students sat in neat, orderly rows further back. The faculty stood along the perimeter, assessing their newest students with a mixture of pride and scrutiny.

At the very front of the hall, four students stood on the raised ceremonial platform—each of them representing the peak of this year's entrants. Among them was the top-ranked student, Lucien von Hohenfeld, the golden-haired prodigy whose overwhelming talent in both swordplay and magic had already solidified him as the best of the new generation.

Lucien stepped forward, the hall silencing in anticipation of his speech.

"As the finest of this generation, it is our duty to uphold the honor of knighthood and magic," he began, his voice carrying the perfect mix of charisma and arrogance. "Only the strongest, the most disciplined, and the most worthy will rise above the rest. This academy does not cater to the weak, nor should it. Those who cannot stand at the top must recognize their place beneath those who can."

The words themselves were typical noble rhetoric, but there was something pointed about the way he said it—something dismissive, as if making it clear that certain individuals didn't belong here.

Your brother, seated beside you, visibly stiffened. His jaw clenched, and his hand gripped the armrest of his chair tightly.

"Tch. He's a pompous ass," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

Despite your aching body, despite the residual soreness of your muscles from both the dire wolf encounter and the combat evaluation, you still managed a small, amused smile.

"You're just noticing now?" you murmured back.

Your brother shot you an annoyed look but said nothing. The speech continued, but you barely listened. Instead, your attention drifted to your surroundings, particularly to your designated seat.

While the other elite students sat in elegant, well-maintained chairs befitting their status, your chair was… different.

It was old. Unpolished. The legs were rusted, the wood splintered. It was a mockery—a blatant message.

A magic cripple didn't belong among them.

You stared at it for a long moment before sitting down without a word. It was a minor inconvenience at best, but the intent behind it was laughable. Were they expecting you to cry? To be humiliated? If anything, it was more amusing than offensive.

The whispers around you were relentless.

"That's the Moran girl…"

"She lasted five seconds and got into the elite class? What a joke."

"Did you see her in the exam? Fighting like some back-alley brawler—disgraceful."

"She's barely even a noble. If she weren't a cripple, she'd still be an embarrassment."

"She's lucky her brother is competent. Otherwise, she'd be tossed out immediately."

It was… exhausting. Not because their words hurt, but because they truly believed you wanted this attention.

Your five-second duel had caused an uproar, not because it was impressive, but because it stole their spotlight. They were used to predictable hierarchies, where talent and noble lineage dictated worth. And yet, here you were—a magic cripple with no respectable standing—placed among them, disrupting the natural order.

They weren't mocking you because you were weak.

They were mad because you didn't act like you were.

Your brother, sitting beside you, was getting more irritated by the second. You could practically hear his teeth grinding. His usual aloof expression was nowhere to be seen—he looked indignant, openly glaring at the nobles whispering around him.

"Disrespectful bastards," he muttered. "You lasted five seconds against a full-ranked knight and still humiliated him. They should be shutting up and learning something."

You glanced at him in mild surprise.

"Hah. So you were impressed."

He shot you a glare. "Shut up."

The ceremony continued, but you already knew how this year would play out. The elite students would sneer. The instructors would scrutinize. The nobles would whisper.

And you?

You'd endure it all the same way you always did.

With a smile.