Morning sunlight gleamed off the Academy's spires as entrance examination day finally arrived. Through the iron gates—now thrown wide for the ceremony—hundreds of candidates streamed forward in an endless flood. Vel found himself swept along by the current of hopefuls, their excited chatter creating a constant hum around him.
As he walked the smooth stone pathway, his eyes caught the tri-post lamps lining both sides—crystal tops dark now but clearly designed for evening illumination. Between them, carefully tended gardens softened the Academy's imposing architecture with beds of greenery and well-planted trees.
"So many people," Celia exclaimed beside him, adjusting her black training jacket. She'd chosen practical examination clothes—black pants, sturdy boots, her rapier secured at her hip.
Vel nodded, noting the contrast between their modest gear and the obvious wealth around them. Students carried weapons that gleamed with expensive craftsmanship—ornate hilts, intricate metalwork, decorated scabbards that spoke of noble houses. Others bore no weapons at all, instead clutching scrolls, thick books, and backpacks that likely held crafting tools. Their scholarly appearance marked them as applicants for non-combat disciplines like alchemy or astronomy.
Movement above caught Vel's attention. Banners hung suspended from floating crystals, drifting gently despite the still air. Some displayed Academy crests while others bore directional guides and sponsor marks.
Vel stopped and tilted his head upward, studying the magical display. The crystals weren't just floating by levitation—they weren't even swaying. Each one held its position like it was anchored to a fixed point in space.
Celia pulled his sleeve. "Vel, you're staring. What is it?"
"Those crystals," he murmured, still looking up. "They're not levitating. They're anchored to fixed dimensional coordinates. But I haven't seen any magic circle components that could replicate that effect."
"Only you can think of such things at a moment like this," Celia said, tugging him forward as the crowd continued moving.
The main path split ahead into three directions. Left led to training complexes and combat facilities. Right stretched toward towers and observatories for theoretical studies. The central route headed to the main administrative buildings where crowds were gathering.
They followed the flow toward registration tables where Academy staff checked names and distributed numbered tokens.
"Velarian Novalance. Lady Halen's scholarship," Vel said when his turn came.
The severe-looking woman consulted her list and handed him bronze token number 137. "Main courtyard."
As Celia stepped forward for her registration, Vel scanned the crowd gathering around the central fountain. His gaze stopped on a familiar profile—tall, fair-haired, with the refined posture of nobility.
His breath caught.
"Kein?" he whispered.
"Token one-thirty-eight," the registration woman told Celia. "Main courtyard."
"Celia," Vel grabbed her sleeve as she turned from the table. "Look—by the fountain. That's Kein."
Her eyes widened, following his gaze. "I almost didn't think we'd meet again here."
She started toward him immediately, Vel close behind. Four years since they'd stood together in Elnor. Four years since Kein had been taken by his noble father.
"Kein!" Celia called above the crowd's murmur. "I can't believe you're here too!"
The fair-haired young man stiffened. A well-dressed peer beside him glanced over curiously.
YOU ARE READING
GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation
FantasyWhen renowned game developer Giri meets his untimely end, he awakens as twelve-year-old Vel in the magical realm of Aeonalus-his own creation. Five hundred years have passed since he crafted the world, and Vel finds himself in the village of Oakhave...
